The Odds Are Never In Our Favour
by ValerieArgent16
Summary: Anastasia Hollern is now the victor of the 84th Hunger Games. Cato Ludwig is dead but Anastasia's pregnant with their child. She should be relieved that the unborn child is alive but there are whispers of a rebellion against the Capitol - a rebellion Anastasia and Cato may have helped create. As the nation watches her, one false move could send everything crumbling down.
1. Chapter 1: Living Nightmares

_Sequel to 'One More Cannon, One More Down, One Step Closer, To the Crown.'_

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><p>Chapter One.<p>

**PART I: THE SPARK.**

**Living Nightmares.**

_I'm gagged, I'm tied and I cannot speak as my body is paralysed from the neck down, looking around I can see that I am being kept inside a shallow roofed cave, from the cracks in the stone hot steaming blood seeps into the naturally made formation. I break free of my restraints and dart from the hiding hole to sprint through the trees at a rapid pace. Hot acid leaks through my limbs as they are pushed to the limit but with the rustling of trees, bushes and undergrowth paired with the distant yells of other people, stopping is not an option now. _

_Suddenly, my body strikes a transparent wall knocking the air violently from my lungs, throwing me backwards into darkness. My clammy palms cling to the wall that stopped my body without any problem, I gather my wobbly limbed body to its useless feet. I am stood inside a dark room, similar to the cave but more earthy with roots poking out from the soil walls. Cautiously, I step forward clearly thinking I am no longer surrounded by the glass wall which becomes a tube, the same transparent tube every tribute is placed in before the games begin. Panic floods my body, leaking adrenaline into my veins which makes me shake but doesn't stop me from punching the tube until the skin breaks and bleeds._

_The tube rises but doesn't stop when it reaches the open air of the arena, it remains strong whilst sealing me inside, preventing me from sprinting towards the survival pack during the bloodbath, everything is identical to my memory of the events: the placements of the tributes, my enemies and my allies, the survival goodies and the weapons spread out from the mouth of the Cornucopia, everything was the same – all except the tube keeping me incarcerated._

_However the killings that happened during the bloodbath were considerably different. From inside my tube I watch Cassandra rocket towards the survival pack before scanning the field looking for me. Our eyes lock for several seconds and before I can warn her, a silver arrow enters the side of her neck, Cassandra coughs spluttering blood over her chin and down her front before collapsing. Bile climbs my throat but a sudden distant call echoes in the air, turning to try and find the source, I see Alden handling plenty of weapons to defend himself but upon seeing Cassandra's body, he crumples like a piece of paper in the space before the Cornucopia, letting his guard down allows the boy from District 1 to disarm him before Iris finishes him off but not without glancing my way. Closing my eyes, the sudden bang against the glass tube alerts me to open my eyes but the face that greets me is Waylon, the hand clutched onto his shoulder is Cherish who holds a knife but it's Cato who slices through the flesh of the twelve-year-old's throat, squirting blood over the tube. And as his body drops limply to the ground, a knife shatters the glass... _

Needless to say, I was awoken by heavy hits on my bedroom door – no doubt my guest had heard my screams and thought to check on me – and the thud of my fishing knife burying itself into the wood of my door is the reason why I ask my visitors to knock and wait for me to reply before they take the risk of entering. Accidentally stabbing isn't on my list of important things to deal with at the moment but today does serves a dark, gloomy and special purpose as today is the day of my deceased district partner, Garrett Larkin's funeral.

Groaning heavily, there was another knock but this one was softer, more gentle and concerned. I rubbed my eyes as the realisation hit me, it had only been a dream however like everything else involving the Games, it felt real.

"Come in," I call once I'd pushed the fringe of my messy hair from my face and wiggled to sit up a little more comfortably moving the cushions to support my back but with a stomach slightly larger than a football, comfort isn't something that's easy to find. The bedroom door opens to reveal a red headed female wearing a floral dress, Annie Cresta. She eyes me up suspiciously before stepping in to close the door behind her, pulling free the knife from the back of the door which is riddled with holes from six months of nightmares, by the end of the year, I will have to replace it.

"Good morning Annie," I greet her nicely with a groggy morning smile, over the first two week period of me moving into my new home in Victor's Village, I had four new keys cut for my front door, one for Mags, my brother Michael and the love-birds of the village, Finnick and Annie. But I also gave one too the Head Peacekeeper, Embry, simply because in the case of an emergency.

For the first couple of months, Michael adventured over to my home before I had awoken for the day but as I grew larger with my pregnancy, Annie began to come instead of Michael which didn't faze me because its Annie, a girl who I have known for years, better than my own mother. Over the first month and a half, she waited patiently downstairs for me to wake up, slowly she got confident enough to come up to my bedroom and knock but the thuds made from the knife scared her however, now Annie has full confidence with being around me early in the morning.

"What brings you here?" I ask but truly I know why she is here. Its the same reason she truly comes to visit every morning. Annie Cresta blushes like a small child, she places the knife back onto my bedside table before pointing to my stomach with a sweet and innocent smile. For the past two months, Annie has been rubbing my stomach, talking to the baby and keeping me company but today wasn't an option, it's almost half seven, Garrett's funeral is at eight and I'm not ready, not that I was invited.

"I'm sorry Annie, but I've Garrett's funeral today." I apologise quickly whilst removing myself from the bed, completely forgetting that I was only wearing underwear and no pyjama's but Annie doesn't seem embarrassed by my partial nakedness and truthfully, after my games knowing that the entire nation has probably seen me go to the toilet, I am not overly bothered anymore by showing a little skin but Annie I have known for years and being more comfortable around her than my brother adds to my confidence. I continue to apologise as I attempt to dart quickly to and from different draws selecting the clothing I had long before picked out for this occasion, Annie watches me with curious eyes as my movement is limited at this stage to both quickness and agility so I am dreading to even think about how I am going to be in a couple of months when I reach the end the growing, preparing myself to be the size of a beach ball.

Splashing my face with cold water, I have no time to apply make-up to my bloodshot and darkened eyes but I am not really bothered because the idea of sneaking into this event wasn't to rub into the morning family's face that I am completely airbrushed and perfect knowing that Garrett wasn't in the best shape when he was shipped back only adds to the horror of me wanting to be there. Annie helps me securely zip the black dress I had purchased into place and I slip on the black pumps and woolly black cardigan to complete the gloomy look. My short hair has grown since the Games but that's only because I am too terrified to both leave or allow anyone inside my house and so I push my fringe away from my face pinning either side behind my ears, away from my face. With my breath hovering on the surface of the mirror, I leave.

Downstairs, a bright red rose sits lonely in a vase of water, the only time I had adventured out of my home was yesterday to buy a flower ready for today, hearing about Garrett's funeral from Leila hurts but I'm unsure why I would expect to be informed. He saved my life more than once and I couldn't return the favour, not once.

"Do you want me to come?" Annie asks watching me remove the rose from the water, swipe my bag from the table and snatch the key from the front door which must be hers because mine is inside my bag.

"No, some things you have to do alone." I tell her.

xxx

The service was beautiful, not that I got to see much of it because I was hiding beneath the trees at the side, far too afraid to show my face to the sobbing woman, man and young boy that stood at the front of the small crowd around a beautiful oak coffin. Placed on top is a large arrangement of flowers – white lilies, I think. Amongst the crowd I can spot people Garrett used to hang around with at school, I suppose you could call them friends. Leila is not there, thankfully. After the punching in the face incident which she remember faintly, we haven't really spoke but logically that's probably a mixture between me being scared to leave the safety of my house and Leila being scared of me, however slowly we are filling in the cracks of our friendship.

"Thank you all for coming." Garrett's mother smiled, the crowd smiles back – some even reply – before funnelling out of the graveyard, flooding into the streets of District 4. I wait patiently in the tree line which brings me back to the arena for a brief moment but as the sea of black disappears from the green grass land, I can almost feel like someone is pushing me forwards towards the coffin.

He is unrecognisable, the photo placed on top of the coffin simply radiates with beauty. Garrett Larkin in smiling happily surrounded by his family. Held firmly in his hands is a silver trophy, he won it swimming based on the engraved symbol on the base of the prize. Garrett's smile was filled with happiness, not like the grins he gave the audience in the Capitol, those were fake, I realise that now.

"You told once that you were going to protect me. Admittedly, there were times that I didn't believe you and I made sure to prepare myself for you to break and rat me out to the Careers but..." Pause. "You didn't, no once did you bend, or even flicker." my voice breaks into a sob, "I owe you so much, but, please, there's just one more thing, one more thing, one more miracle, Garrett, for me. Don't... be... dead."

Buried deep in the center of my chest, a flicker ignites as the raw hope that Garrett Larkin will leap from the coffin before me, laughing and engulf me in a hug whilst people emerge from the trees with cameras, filming the entire thing like a television programme. Not that I would find that situation funny or comforting, I just want him to be alive. He made me feel safe.

"What the hell are you doing here!" the high-pitched voice of a very angry female ripped through the silent air like a knife through butter. Turning swiftly, I am greeted by the red face of Garrett's mother who storms towards me so quickly her child and husband need to jog to keep up with her. Stumbling backwards, convinced she was going to hit me, the women's anger remains level as she bark's the question at me, again and again.

Stunned with her approach, I cannot speak, it's almost like I have forgotten how to string a sentence together so I remain frozen in terror and speechless. Obviously angered by my no response, the woman rips the rose from my hand.

"YOU TOOK MY SON!" she bellows, "HE'S DEAD BECAUSE OF YOU!" then she removes the head of the flower from the stem before stepping on it, driving it into the ground using the toe of her right foot before throwing the stem back at me. This is when her husband steps in, he whispers soothing words that I cannot hear but whatever he says calms her down therefore I am incredibly grateful.

Up close, the young sibling who is now an only child, looks older than I imagined with gentle creases around his eyes, no doubt from crying. His bronze skin matched his gentle blonde hair with eyes like his elder brother. He cannot be any older than ten and already, he despises me with the same hell-fire as he mother but in some way I'm thankful for him keeping silent about he. Our eyes are connected in a deadly battle of me attempting to be emotionless and him attempting to kill me using his mind.

The mother of the Larkin family drapes her arm around her youngest son before turning to face her back to me, but not before I hear her mumble, _unworthy slut, _to either herself or her son, I cannot be sure but I heard it and so did her husband so gives an uneasy glance in his wife's direction before turning to face me, his body is angled but not fully facing me, suggesting that he has feeling of dislike towards me however not as strong as his spouse and child.

"I'm sorry." I tell him, despite the wholesome feel to my voice, the middle-aged man chuckles bitterly but not in a harmful way as you would of imagined.

Then he turns to face me, completely. First he eyes my face, gently taking in every detail from my reformed nose to the scar-less skin. Then his gaze falls upon my stomach, and it's almost like her inside of me can feel the man's gaze because she kicks – I say she, I don't know if the baby is going to be a she, it could be a he.

The man doesn't smile at the state of my stomach, in fact he looks a little disgusted but nevertheless, he steps forwards towards me with no threatening aura about his approach, "Just remember who the real enemy is." he mumbles so quiet even I struggle to hear, he is probably scared someone will hear him and report him to a Peacekeeper but there is no one around. Wanting to ask him what he means seems stupid because it's obvious, the morning people of the surrounding districts are not my enemy, even the children in the arena with me, are not my enemy. It's the Capitol, President Snow, Seneca Crane and the rest of the Gamemakers, they are the enemy of every living and breathing person inside this nation.

Mr Larkin leaves after his simply words, not wanting to further our conversation anymore. I walk home in silence however at some stages I do find myself in a conversation with myself, in fact some of the best conversation I have are with myself. My baby must think I'm nuts, she can hear, Doctor Galloway gave a handful of leaflets to read about pregnancy and one of them states that talking to your child will help them form a bond with you before he, or she, is born because they recognise you by your voice. Fascinating isn't it?

Winter has rolled in and the temperature has dropped dramatically helping to create snow which sticks to the ground allowing me to leave a nice trail of footprints behind me. At my front door, I stamp my feet so the wet stuff knocks off from my shoes before I enter. Seeing as the front door is unlocked, I guess Annie never left this morning or more people have gathered around my house, no doubt Mags cleaning up the odd piece of paper or glass I have left laying around, I'm not dirty but neither am I compulsory clean.

I've barely stepped inside when a arm appears before me at chest level to avoid contact with my poking out stomach. Following the masculine hand up the arm to the shoulder connected to the neck which holds the face, I see Michael. His face is hardened with discomfort but he makes an effort to smile, that's when I know something is wrong.

"Don't worry, I'll take them off here." I say slipping off my flat shoes to leave them on the matt.

Michael lets out a odd, breathy laugh and touches my arm gentle, "How are you feeling? How was your walk?" he asks me with a odd look glistening in his eyes. And when I see the man standing behind him in the kitchen doorway, one look at his tailored suit and surgically perfected features and I know he's from the Capitol. Something is terribly wrong.

"I feel much better now, fresh air was what I needed." I bluff.

Michaels eyes sparkle with happiness at my lie, "Someone is here to see you." he says, his face is too pale and I can gently hear the anxiety he is trying to hid in his voice.

I look at his with shock, "I thought they weren't due until noon," I bluff again before checking the platinum watch around my wrist, "Has Vibia came early to help me get ready?" I ask.

"No, Anastasia, It's –" my brother begins.

"This way, please, Miss Hollern." says the man, rudely interrupted my sibling. The man gestures to upstairs, it's strange to be ushered around your own home but I know better than to comment on it.

As I pass, I give Michael a reassuring smile over my shoulder. "Probably more instructions for the tour." They've been sending me all kinds of stuff about my journey and what protocol will be observed in each district, plus stacks of information about each hospital in the districts I will be assigned too in the case of a baby related emergency. But as I walk towards the door of the study, a door I have never seen closed until now, I can feel my heart begin to palpitate and my mind begin to race.

_Who is here?_

_What do they want?_

_Am I in trouble?_

_Why is my brother, a Hunger Games victor, so pale and terrified?_

"Go right in." says the Capitol man who has just followed me up my own stairs and corridor, I twist the polished brass knob and step inside. My nose registers the conflicting scents of roses and blood. A funny little white-haired man who seems familiar is reading a book from my shelf. He holds up his index finger over the top of the book as if to say, "Give me a moment." Then he marks the page before putting it down and my heart skips a beat, literally.

Because then, I'm staring into the snakelike eyes of President Snow.

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><p><strong>AN: **_I've missed you! How have you all been? I hope everything has been going great. Well, here it is, the first chapter to the second part of Anastasia's story and already It hasn't been as bright as she hoped. Garrett's mother and President Snow have taken shots at her but it's people like Mr Larkin who still give her hope that a normal life is possible. I'm placing bets, who thinks Anastasia's baby will be a girl and who thinks it'll be a boy? Review and tell me, but also review to tell me what you thought on this first chapter :)_


	2. Chapter 2: Unexpected Visitor

Chapter Two.

**Unexpected Visitor.**

After being forced to watch President Snow on television, I believe he should be viewed in front of marble pillars hung with oversized flags. It's baffling to see him surrounded by the ordinary objects in the study. What could he be doing here? My mind rushes back to the opening days of other Victors Tours, I remember seeing the winning tributes with their mentors and stylists. Even some high government officials have have appearances occasionally. But I have never seen President Snow, he attends the celebrations in the Capitol. Only. And so if he's made the journey all the way from his city, it only means on thing: I'm in serious trouble. And if I am, then so is my brother.

A shiver goes through me when I think of the closeness of my brother and anyone who I care about to this man who despises me. Who will always despises me, because I showed his sadistic Hunger Games, made the Capitol look foolish and consequently undermined his control – all I was doing was trying to keep Cato and myself alive. Any act of rebellion was purely coincidental. But when I am faced with the only person I've truly had feelings for and the Capitol says that only one tribute can live and you have the audacity to challenge it, I guess that's a rebellion in itself. However for some reason in the arena it faintly crossed my mind they may let us both win, crown us both as victors, but I'm alone to live. Alone to come back to District 4 and celebrate and wave goodbye to the camera's and then be left alone. Until now.

Perhaps it is the newness of the house or the shock of seeing him so soon or the mutual understanding that he could have me killed in a second that makes me feel like the intruder. As if this is his home and I am the uninvited party. So I don't welcome him or offer him a chair, I don't say anything. In fact, I make an effort to treat him like a real snake, remain motionless, my eyes locked on him and considering my plans of retreat.

"Miss Hollern, please take a seat," President Snow says, his voice is edged with happiness, I accept the seat which was a padded chair that sits at the front of the desk, "I think we'll make this whole situation similar by agreeing not to lie to each other." he says smoothly, "What do you think?"

I think my tongue has frozen and speech will be impossible, almost like today at the funeral. So I am surprise myself by answering back in a steady voice, "Yes, I think that would save us both time."

President Snow smiles and for the first time I notice his lips, expecting snake lips I am shocked to find they are overly full, the skin is stretched to tight, I have to wonder is his mouth has been altered to make him more appealing. If so, it was a waste of time and money because he's not appealing at all. "My advisor's were concerned you would be difficult, but you're not planning on being difficult, are you?" he asks.

_I am certainly in no position to be difficult, look at me! _I answer in my head, but my nerves are shot and I simply reply, "No."

"That's what I told them, I said any girl who goes to such lengths to preserve her life isn't going to be interested in throwing it away. And then there's her brother to think about and her... child." By the way he lingers on the word "child" I can tell he still doesn't approve. President Snow takes a seat at the large desk of polished wood where I sit to reply to Capitol mail, to watch documents and write out my shopping lists. Like the rest of our home, this is a place he has no right to be.

"I have a problem, Miss Hollern," says President Snow, "A problem that began the moment you spoke up against Seneca Crane in the arena, and then that problem escalated a little more when the news of your pregnancy hit the other districts." _That was your fault! _I bellow inside my mind. "If the Head Gamemaker had any brains, he would have dumped than damn on you the moment you spoke up. But he had an unfortunate case of cold feet and allowed you to speak up."

I raise an eyebrow faintly, Seneca Crane? Cold feet? "What happened to him?" I ask, trying my best not to sound concerned because, I am not. For all I care, Seneca Crane should be dumped in the slum of District 12 and allowed to rot.

"Mistakes are not tolerated in his line of work, so can you guess where he is?" President Snow asks.

I nod because, by the way he says it, it's clear that Seneca Crane has been executed. The smell of roses and blood has grown stronger now that only a desk separates us. There's a rose in President Snow's lapel which suggests the source of the flower perfume but it must be genetically enhanced because no real rose reeks like that. As for the blood... I really don't know.

"After that, there was nothing to do but play out your little scenario. And of course, you were both telling the truth and very convincing, with the love-crazed schoolgirl routine. The people in the Capitol were quite crazed by it, unfortunately not everyone in the districts fell for your act." he says. My face must of registered at least a flicker of bewilderment because he addresses it, "This, of course, you don't know. You have no access to information about the mood in other districts. In several of them, however, people viewed your little trick with Cato and the pregnancy, as an act of defiance, not an act of love. And if a girl from District 4 – one of the Capitol's favourites – will defy the Capitol and walk away unharmed, what is to stop them from doing the same?" he asks, "What is to prevent, lets say, an uprising?"

Sickness hits me as his long sentence skins in. Then the full weight of it hits me. "Have there been uprisings?" I ask, both chilled and somewhat elated by the possibility.

"Not yet. But they'll follow if the course of things don't change. And uprisings have been known to lead to revolution," President Snow rubs the spot over his right eyebrow, the very spot where I myself get headaches, "Do you have any idea how many people would die? What conditions those left would have to face? Whatever problems anyone may have with the Capitol, believe me when I say that if it released its grip on the districts for even a short time, the entire system would collapse."

A sudden spark of confidence hits me, "It must be a fragile system if a little love can bring it down."

There's a long pause while he examines me, then he simply says, "Yes, it is, indeed. But not in a way that you image."

"How should I imagine it?" I ask.

"You should imagine thousands upon thousands of your people, dead. This district of yours reduced to aches. Imagine it gone. Made radioactive and buried under the dirt like it had never existed like District 13." he pauses as he watches me face remain emotionless, "You fought very hard in The Games, Miss Hollern, but those where games. Would you like to be in a real war?"

"No." I reply sharply.

President Snow smiles, "Good. Neither would I."

"I didn't mean to start any uprising?" I tell him.

"I believe you. It doesn't matter. Your stylist turned out to be outstanding in her wardrobe choice, Anastasia Hollern, the princess of District 4. You have provided a spark that, left unattended, may grow to an inferno that destroys Panem." he says.

Suddenly sighing heavily, "Why don't you just kill me now?" I blurt out.

"Kill you?" he asks, "I don't want to kill you. I want us to be friends but if not friends, then allies."

"Then just tell me what I need to do and I'll do it." I plead.

President Snow lets out a muffled laugh, "If only it was that simply, Anastasia."

I don't see what I could do, between the ceremonies and events along with the reporters documenting my every move as I thanked and smiled to the audience. I had no privacy at all. After a few weeks, things finally died down. The camera crews and reporters packed up and went home. I assumed the jungle was over. Me and my unborn child settled into our house in Victor's Village and the everyday life of District 4 continued on as normal.

"Don't hurt them; Michael, Leila, the other victors." I beg.

"I'm only interested in how your relationships will affect you on tour. The crazy loved up girl." President Snow says.

"It'll be the same on the tour." I say. "Of course it will. I loved him."

"You love him." he corrects as if Cato is still alive. I nod. "Only you can avert the uprising." he says, "This tour will be your only chance to turn this around."

Completely threatened by his tone, "I will. I'll convince everyone in the district that I wasn't defying the Capitol." I say.

President Snow rises and dabs his puffy lips with a white napkin, "Aim higher in case you fall short."

"What do you mean? How can I aim higher? I'm doing what you asked." I say strongly, maybe a little too strongly.

President Snow chuckles lightly, "Convince _me_." he whispers before sliding the book into his vacant place on the shelf. I don't watch him as he heads for the door.

"But you already know." I squawk.

He raises one of his bushy white eyebrows at me, "Do this for the sake of your child. We wouldn't want you to have an accident, would we?" he asks, then he chuckles before whispering in my ear, "Please do send word of the gender of your child, I would like to know what sort of gift to buy." he states before the door clicks shut behind him.

_Remember who the real enemy is... _Mr Larkin's voice echoes inside my mind as his footsteps echo and then disappear down the corridor. Angry, I pat my stomach gentle and she kicks against my hand alerting me that she is fine. I begin to relax slowly, but I cannot help but be completely shoved by President Snow's threat.

_We wouldn't want you do have an accident, would we? _

Bastard.

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><p><strong>AN: **_Jeez, President Snow is an ass, what do you guys think of his threats and visit? Review!_


	3. Chapter 3: The Hospital

Chapter Three.

**The Hospital.**

President Snow has stepped over a very clear line. Threatening me wasn't a problem nor did it overly bother me because it wasn't like I hadn't been threatened before, I was in the presence of Iris Castillo for three weeks but President Snow threatening my unborn child and all the people I hold dear and love – it's completely out of order. I remained seated staring out the large window placed in the wall behind the desk where President Snow sat minutes beforehand. My eyes glisten between the snowflakes descending from the sky to stick to the ground below elevating whatever danger there was already in place.

From behind me, the study door opens and I freeze because my mind shakes in a fit of terror thinking it was one of the men President Snow was accompanied by returning to carry out what the president had threatened. However these footsteps are gentle and trail into the room at a steady pace like she – I can tell by the lightness of the steps the walker is female – is afraid of startling me.

"Is everything all right?" the gentle voice of Leila Turner pierced through the tense fog. I turn to look over my shoulder at her, Leila's eyes were still the same happy eyes that I remembered from our days at school. Her lips still curled into the same smile that I remembered seeing when my dad died and how she comforted me when I cried. All I wanted was to hug her, to tell her how sorry I am, how much I truly admired and needed her. However, it's then I remember President Snow threat, then I imagine her cold and lifeless. Like Cassandra, Alden and Garrett.

My doing.

"Everything is fine," I assure her, "We never see it on television but the president always visits the victors before the tour to wish them good luck." I say brightly, well, as brightly as humanly possible at this stage.

Leila's face floods with relief, "Oh, well, Michael thought there was some kind of trouble." she replies.

"Not at all," I say, "The real trouble will start when my prep-team sees how I've let my eyebrows grow back in and bitten my nails to stubs."

My friend laughs, since the night where I punched her, we have been trying hard to mend our relationship. Asking her to help me with baby things and accepting her help when I need it instead of brushing her aside like before, but now it manly consisted of returning her hugs rather then tolerating them. And today, our bonding session contained of her accompanying me to the hospital for my six month scan. Doctor Galloway has booked my appointment at District 4's general hospital at quarter passed ten. Now it's ten-to-nine meaning I have plenty of time to have a bath and change into less depressing clothing.

Leila goes downstairs to inform Michael and Annie that everything is perfectly fine, or so she thinks. Knowing that they wont believe her doesn't mean I'm not going to stop her from trying. I run the bathtub almost to the center before adding oil which adds perfume into the air, as I undress myself, the well structured stomach pokes out from my reformed and as I lower myself into the silky water, I find it difficult to keep a grip. As I trace the stretch marks on my stomach, filled with joy as she kicks me from inside. Alerting me she is well. "You're going to be okay." I whisper soothingly to her. I will do everything in my power to protect her.

After fifteen minutes of talking to myself, well her. I remove myself from my bath before removing the plug allowing the water to drain. Drying myself with a soft towel, I enter my empty bedroom. In the glistening light of the sun, it reflects off the metal object that took it's place proudly mounted on the far wall beside the entrance to the bedroom door. Cato's sword. I know one day our child will ask me why I have it on the wall, who it belonged too and why I felt I needed to keep it. And I know that I cannot keep it from her forever, not like how I'd like too.

Going to the hospital required non of the fancy clothing donated by the Capitol because it's nowhere special in my opinion. Personally, hospitals have always scared the life out of me, now more than ever because of the white room I was lift to live in whilst the Capitol mends me to far better standards than I was before The Games. However, unlike the Capitol doctors and nurses, the qualified ones here are much friendly and I also known them, so that helps the nerves decrease rapidly. I pull on a pair of baggy tracksuit bottoms and a loose fitting, plain white t-shirt before pinning back my wispy hair. And then, my look is 'completed' as Dieter Rollo would say, who by the way I am positively certain will throw a triumphant if he saw me looking so simply. However at noon my prep-team will swarm me and transform me back into the glistening Princess I so foolishly attempted to pull over during my previous time in the Capitol.

Adventuring downstairs, I noticed that Leila had helped herself to the food from my fridge but to make up for it, she had made me a cup of tea, so in silence we eat and drink a considerable amount of bread before the car arrives. Mayor Osbourne had arranged for a vehicle to take me too and from the hospital on my scheduled dates but also for a doctor to be housed near by as my due date gets closer. I think the mayor feels it's necessary to provide me some sort of protection against the still angry people of District 4 because I know there are some still hidden out there. The less hidden ones have already made themselves known to me, which so far only made up of Garrett's family and friends.

At ten-to-ten, the rumble of a familiar car engine enters the front of Victor's Village and drives along until it stops outside my home. The horn of the vehicle unnecessary beeps to grip our attention which was already gripped. We double check to make sure everything is turned off and locked before heading out to the car where the driver, a man named Beigo, greeted us with a smile. And one we're seated, we head off to the hospital.

xxx

The gel is cold but the Ultrasound Technician doesn't warn me in advance so I get a shock when she first puts it on. Leila sits to my left as all the ultrasound equipment is to my right with me laying on a bed in the middle with my shirt pulled over my stomach. The technician uses the scanner to first locate where my child is laying, the screen which projects the image is perfectly angled so both myself, Leila and the technician don't have to awkwardly look. Its perfect for all of us.

"There's your baby." the woman announces as a crystal clear, side view of my child lights up the screen. Her back is curved being her knees to her navel with her arms in a comfortable position with her head leaning inwards. That's my baby. The technician listens to me and Leila make pathetic noises like 'ah' and small squeaks of excitement before she moves on with the appointment. "There's a hand and an arm" she tells us, using her keyboard to zoom in on the image. She then moves her scanner to the side of my stomach where the image if replaced with a pair of tiny feet, "And, there's the feet." she tells us. My eyes have lined with tears as I count the toes and imagine those tiny feet in my hands. Tiny toenails. Oh, who knew that toes could be so cute?

"Woah! Check out Baby Big-Head!" Leila exclaims as the Ultrasound Technician moves to the opposite side of my stomach to measure the cranium of my unborn child. Despite the rudeness to Leila's joke, I couldn't help but smile because – setting aside it's zoomed in on screen – the baby's head is rather big.

The Technician smiles at us before asking, "Would you like to know the sex?" she asked whilst scraping the gel from my stomach gentle with the scanner before wiping me clean with paper towels.

Despite Leila practically yelling, "Yes." at the Technician, she waits for me to answer but suddenly I am not too sure about learning the sex of my child. I mean, do I really want to know? Or would it be nicer as a surprise? I suppose it would be helpful to know the gender of my child now for future references, knowing what colour to buy things or to know whether to buy boy or girl toys. However if I don't know the sex, no one can know therefore the Capitol cannot do a huge story on it. Rendering them completely powerless in this situation.

"No, I don't want to know the gender." I tell the Technician who nods. Leila playfully punches me in the arm whilst moaning and begging for me to change my mind but it was set in stone. I wasn't to know for the safety of my privacy.

Before leaving, I told Leila to go wait in the car whilst I waited for the woman to print off my ultrasound pictures but really I wanted to make sure she didn't tell anyone the gender of my unborn child because she must know but I loose my nerve and by the time she has handed me the pictures, my hands are clammy and my throat is dry. If it wasn't broadcasted on the television, people wouldn't believe I was a Hunger Games victor. But the Ultrasound Technician gives me a warm smile which eases me enough to speak.

"Could you, please, do me a favour?" I finally manage to ask.

The Technician's smile doesn't fault, "Don't worry, Miss Hollern. I won't tell anyone the gender." she whispers soothingly.

My eyebrows flicker in bewilderment but a smile and look of happiness replaces it. "Thank you." I reply before scooting out of the ultrasound room. A strange awkwardness fills me as I walk through the hospital corridors heading for the stairs, which I have been advised by several nurses and Doctor Galloway to avoid because of my pregnancy but the elevator reminds me of the tube lift which took me into the arena and I'm scared of not being about to see where I am heading.

Unfortunately, despite knowing exactly where I will be heading for the next thirteen days, not knowing how these days will go frightens me to my very core because I am not ready to face the families who have lost in order for me to survive. I am not ready to see my dead allies and kills – It's now knowing where I am heading and what is going to happen which scares me.

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><p><strong>AN:**_ Looks like you guys will have to wait to know the gender of Anastasia's baby. Did you guys enjoy this chapter? Please review with your opinions._


	4. Chapter 4: Arrival From The Capitol

Chapter Four.

**Arrival From The Capitol.**

When I arrive back to my home in Victor's Village after dropping off Leila in the center of town, and I am not surprised to be greeted by the rest of the population of victors gathered in my kitchen, drinking my tea or coffee as well as the food from my cupboards and fridge.

"Hello people who do not live here." I say to greet them as I kick off my shoes into a pile before shrugging off my coat to sling it over the end of the table when I enter the kitchen then walking round to retrieve a cup from the overhead cupboard and fill it with still hot water then adding a teabag. "You know I gave you those key's for emergences." I tell them, sarcastically sounding out the word 'emergences' as I took a seat at the head of the table.

"We were out of food." Finnick Odair replies in the same sarcastic tone with a chuckle that I couldn't help but join in with. Michael rubbed my back soothingly but Finnick managed to beat my brother by saying what I suspected he was going to ask, "How did the doctor's go?" my ex-mentor asks.

"It went good, great actually. Baby and I are healthy so that's a bonus." I tell them, completely dodging any subject to do with the gender because truthfully that's the only real reason they are round here. No doubt they have bets going on between each other about the gender, I would be shocked if they didn't.

Annie taps on the table top impatiently, "So, what it going to be? A he or a she?" the young girl asks.

_Told you._

I slip from my cup gentle watching them all grow increasingly more impatient like Annie, "I decided against knowing the gender." I mumble just loud enough for them to hear me. They all begin to complain about how I cannot be curious because that isn't the point. I am. Finnick then turns to Michael who looks just as disappointed and begins to loudly discuss something but I cannot hear them because Annie is complaining in my ear and Mags looks too deep in thought for comfort.

Several seconds later, the sound of car horn silences the victors surrounding me table. The commotion outside can only mean one thing: the arrival of my prep-team from the Capitol. Finnick opens the door and is the first victim of Dieter Rollo's unbelievable happiness but he quickly makes his way around the group before ending at me who he hugs warmly before pecking me on the lips. Shortly following my escort are the two helpers which make up my prep-team, Coren, a man whose shoulder-length hair has been cut short and dyed from mandarin to lilac and Shazza, a young woman whose looks remain relatively the same apart from her flamingo pink hair has grown to the middle of her back and plated neatly with streaks of apple green.

"Anastasia, your eyebrows!" Shazza exclaims.

"And your nails!" Coren exclaims matching the same high-pitch as his colleague.

This was the cue for the others to leave, this is what they do. Finnick, Annie and Mags all abandon the house like it's filled with rats whereas Michael remains in my kitchen giving me a look as if to say, _good luck, _as my prep-team whisks me off to my bedroom upstairs. Once inside my bedroom, my clothing is whipped off and replaced with a robe. There's no question of privacy when it comes to my body, we have no secrets, it's just these two people and me.

Coren grabs my left hand and pins one of my fingers flat between two of his pale ones. "Really, Anastasia, you could have left me something to work with!" he wails – it's was true, I've been bitten my nails to stubs in the past couple of months. I thought about trying to break the habit but couldn't think of a good enough reason why I should, therefore I didn't. Despite their surprise I hadn't been spending much time worrying about how this might affect my prep-team. Shazza runs her hand through my mess of hair before giving her head a disapproving shake.

"Sorry." I mumble.

They all kiss and hug me as if to accept my futile apology before seating me on a chair in my bedroom and, as usual, start talking non-stop without bothering to notice if I'm listening. Shazza attends to my eyebrows whilst Coren massages goo into my hair. And I hear all about the Capitol, what a hit the Games were, how dull things have been since and how much no one can wait until I visit again at the end of the Victory Tour. After that, it won't be long before the Capitol begins gearing up for the next Hunger Games, seeing as the next Quarter Quell will be 100th Hunger Games. I have never been alive for a Quarter Quell but I remember hearing about it in school, the Capitol demanded that twice the number of tributes be provided for the arena. Forty-eight tributes, that years victor was from District 12, Haymitch Abernathy, the same man behind the brilliant star-crossed lovers gag that managed to fool everyone in the Capitol. Aside from President Snow, of course. The people in the district aren't stupid, Katniss Everdeen was not in love with Peeta Mellark, anyone with a working set of eyes would see that, her acting was terrible but somehow she managed to trick the Capitol people, but then again, that cannot be too difficult.

Coren and Shazza soon have exhausted the topic of me becoming a mentor and they lunge into a whole lot of stuff about their incomprehensibly silly lives. Who said what about someone I have never heard of and what sort of shoes they just brought and a long story from Shazza about what a mistake it was to have everyone wear glitter to her birthday party.

Soon my eyebrows are stinging, my hair is silky and smooth, and my nails are ready to be painted. Apparently they've been given instructions to prepare only my hands and face, probably because everything else will be covered in the cold weather. My hair is brushed neatly to the side away from my face, pinned with a diamanté clip. Coren desperately wants to use his own trademark orange lipstick on me but resigns himself to a sutler nude colour as they begin to colour my face and nails. I can see by the palette Vibia has created that we're going for girlish, not sexy. Good. I'll never convince anyone of anything if I'm trying to be provocative, I couldn't bloody do that anyway now! Look at me, I'm six months pregnant, if anyone finds a slut-dressed-six-month-pregnant-teenager attractive, that person has problems.

When everything is completed, make-up wise. Vibia entered the bedroom and just the sight of her makes me feel more at ease. She looks the same as before, bright hair and tight fitting clothing with a hint of gold eye liner. We embrace, ignoring the hits from Coren and Shazza as they exclaim at me not to mess anything up. Vibia is the only person I have spoken too on my new house phone outside of District 4. The first person I range was Leila after I'd been settled in for a few days and ready to apologise for the punching. I consider telling her about President Snow's threats but it hardly seems necessary to involve her in something that isn't her business, however what is the president's threat involves her as well? Coren and Shazza too? How can I be so responsible for so many lives and not be aware.

Vibia's calling really started as curiosity began to build inside of her, it was about how much work I have done on my talent. Every victor is supposed to have on, your talent is an activity you take up since you don't have to work either in school or your district's industry. It can be anything, literally anything that they can interview you about. Dieter gave me a list of three, cooking, flute playing and flower arranging – all three can be done with a newborn however non stuck, I cannot cook even with a book telling me what and how to do things. Playing the flute would require some sort of rhythm which I don't have. And flower arranging, that would require colour coordination, then again, I don't have any.

Finally, Vibia stepped in and offered to help me develop my apparent passion for designing clothes, which really required development since it was non-existent. But I said yes because that meant getting to talk to Vibia and plus she promised to do all the work. It was the perfect arrangement really. Vibia gives orders to Coren and Shazza to decorate the downstairs with sashes of material, clothing in the stages of being merged into something beautiful but also a sketchbooks with designs she has drawn.

Whilst the others are downstairs, Vibia places one on my bed and I pick it up to examine a dress I supposedly created. "You know, I think I show a lot of potential." I chuckle.

Vibia laughs, "Get dressed, you plagiarising thing." she says, tossing me a bundle of clothes at me.

I may have no interest in designing or making clothes but I do adore the ones Vibia creates for me. Like these, tight black trousers make from thick, warm material. A comfortable deep blue shirt with a sweater woven from green and blue strands with laced leather boots that don't pinch my toes.

"Did I design my outfit?" I ask. Of course, I am aware I hadn't but I wasn't aware if the stupid people of the Capitol knew that.

Vibia shakes her head, "No, you aspire to design your outfit and be like me, your fashion hero." the young woman chuckles using her hands to gesture to her long body whilst tilting her head up. I chuckle and so does she, then she hands me a small pile of cards, "You'll read these off camera whilst they're filming the clothes. Do try and sound like you care." she urges.

We adventure downstairs just as Dieter Rollo enters in a rather glamorous deep blue suit made of sequins to remind everyone, "We're on a schedule!" he squeaks, kisses both of my cheeks whilst waving in the camera crew, then orders me into position, Dieter was the only reason we got anywhere on time in the Capitol, so I try to accommodate her. I start bobbing around like a puppet, holding up outfits and saying meaningless things like, "Don't you love it?" The sound team records me reading from my cards in a chirpy voice so they can insert it later, then I'm tossed out of the room so they can film my/Vibia's designs in peace. Michael is in the kitchen being interview by a separate camera crew with Finnick, both dressed to impress, of course.

I am so distracted by my brothers smiles and glistening words, I barely realise Vibia is trying to put a coat on me, so I raise my arms so he can slip it on. I feel fur, inside and out encasing me. It's from no animal I've ever seen. "Ferret." he tells me as I stroke the white, brown and black sleeve, then I slip on the leather gloves handed to me by Coren.

"Where is your trinket?!" Dieter gasps.

Then I suddenly feel guilty as the gold bracelet trinket Dieter had brought me in the Capitol sits in my draw at the bottom of my desk. I haven't wore it since the Games finished because they only reminded me of the arena. I wanted rid of everything involved with that place yet Cato's sword seemed unmoveable.

"No need to panic, I found it!" Coren laughs running down the stairs with the trinket glistening in the light of the bulbs, thankfully he doesn't tell Dieter about where it's previous location was. My prep-team helper simply slips it on my wrist with a sneaky smile.

Dieter Rollo – clearly uplifted by the recovering of my trinket – claps his hands near by, "Attention, everyone! We're about to do the outside shot, where Anastasia has a short interview with Caesar!" he announces, wait, what? Caesar Flickerman is here? In District 4, "Okay, Anastasia, you're happy, excited, yes? Good!" he practically shouts at me before shoving me gently out of the door.

Strangely, I imaged Caesar sitting at some sort of garden table wearing a beautiful outfit, however what greets me outside is not what I had expected, a strange looking camera connected to a tripod and stuck onto a miniature train track. The white light on the side of the camera shined brightly in my face to illuminate me from the gloomy skies as it gobbles up my image.

Suddenly, the booming Panem anthem becomes apparent, "There she is! Anastasia Hollern, Princess of Panem!" the happy voice of Caesar Flickerman emerges from as if out of no where taking me by surprise. For a moment I cannot quite see right because of the snow but I make an effort to wave and smile. Like Caesar Flickerman's voice, I hear the audience cheers and screams as if from no where.

"Hello Caesar." I smile happily.

The interview with Caesar goes on with simply questions and laughs. Some questions are about the outfits seen previous and others about my life as a new victor but of course, the main things settle on my pregnancy.

"How is the pregnancy going?"Caesar asks.

The audience screams, "It's going good." I reply.

_Silence_.

"That's it? That's all we get? 'it's going good'?" Caesar asks, bewildered, "Come on, Anastasia, give us some details!"

I chuckle happily, "We both are happy and healthy, growing perfectly and everything is as it should be." I reply with such love the muscles in my face ache from smile. The audience scream and cheer in response to my answer, like they are as happy as I am about the health of my child.

"Good, we'll catch up with you later on in the Victor's Tour!" Caesar says happily, "Ladies and gentlemen, Anastasia Hollern!"

Wave, cheer, smile, scream, more waving and... power down. The camera drops limp on the tripod and Dieter Rollo rushes out the front door. "Everyone in motion, we are out of here in ten!" he screams. Michael holds my hand as we begin to vacate to the car waiting outside Victor's Village. Finnick kisses Annie goodbye but appears to be taking too long in Dieter eyes because he screams, "Come on children! We are on a schedule!" Mr Odair growls angrily at his ex-escort but obeyed him.

As we head towards the station, we bid everyone goodbye as we stand at the station in front of the door however we wave and smile to the cameras as the training is waiting like before however suddenly, I am panicked because my mind has thrown me back to the day of the reaping. Looking around the crowd at the camera crews and people, I find myself searching for Garrett Larkin like I had lost him in the ocean of people. My breathing heavies and my face and arm drops as a black cloud hovers over me, as Finnick touches my arm and attempts to bring me back to reality, constantly whispering "You're okay, breathe." And to an extent it does help. I can see myself on everyone's television screens like the day of the reaping but now it's different, families of the fallen tributes will be proud to see me crumble, happy to see me suffer.

After several minutes, the train door opens, we step in but unlike the reaping, the train waits an entire minute before rocketing off. This time there is no Garrett Larkin to catch me when I fall and that's when I know, the Victory Tour has begun.

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><p><strong>AN: **_Sorry I haven't uploading sooner, I've been ill plus I went to Harry Potter Studio's which was amazing. Please review and tell me what you guys think about this chapter and also tell me how you think the Victory Tour will go? will there be problems or will it all be plain sailing? Review and tell me. _


	5. Chapter 5: Journey To Hell

Chapter Five.

**Train Journey To Hell.**

The train pulled away from the station in Four and it travels along at an even speed on the tracks laid between the districts. Knowing we will have to stop at a station for fuel during our journey to the first stop on my Victory Tour – District 12 – makes me feel less trapped in the talons of the Capitol because I will be able to exit the transporter for air. Maybe then I will tell Michael or Finnick about the president's visits and threats out in the open.

To kick off our tour, the chefs prepared an indescribably delicious meal that made my heart flutter and my muscles feel like liquid. After that, I am changed into pyjamas but not before having one of the best showers I have had in six months, the houses in Victor's Village are simple compared to those in any Capitol invention. The baby must have enjoyed it as well because she was kicking inside my stomach as madly as you would during a football game however it did torturous things to my bladder, feeling like I had to pee every five minutes. The beds are just as I remember, plush with thick duvets and a marshmallow mattress with silk covers.

Laying down, the train grows quiet and my body weaker. These are the perfect sleeping conditions but it's sods law that the one time I am actually sleepy, the unborn child inside my stomach is ready to play. It is these little nudges of irritating behaviour that terrifies me that my daughter or son will have genetically adopted Cato's humorous trait.

I try to sleep but it doesn't come leaving me surprisingly tearful. The doctor said that hormones can be raging uncontrollably like a roller-coaster but as I leave the safety of my bed and putting on my slipper, I realise that a fraction of the reason why I was upset was the realisation of everything: my victory, the loss of my friends and one true love as well as my pregnancy. Everything suddenly weighted on my shoulders and just knowing that tomorrow I will have to stand up in front of the child family I both risked my life for and killed.

Waylon Marsden – he was only thirteen when he was entered for the 84th Hunger Games. A skeleton with pale skin wrapped around the bones with grey eyes and dark hair. During the bloodbath, the female tribute from District 11 was going to kill him, no doubt like his district partner Danette but I got to him first. The female tribute from District 11 was my first kill but sadly, not my only kill, I later went on to kill three more tributes – one victim was Waylon himself who had contracted a disease due to the wound he had received during the opening minutes of the Games. I mercy killed Waylon several days after I saved him.

Pushing the thought of the young boy from my disturbed mind, I exited my chambers and walked down the corridors heading for Finnick's room, he is the one I should tell about President Snow because his reaction or advice will be genuine and not clouded with sibling affection. I raise my hand to knock as the train stops but just as my knuckles make contact with the metal, I instantly lost my nerves and retreated to the outside.

The wind is like an ice blade which cuts through me but the nights in the arena where colder so this isn't unbearable so I don't regret getting several lungfuls of fresh air as the men refuel the trains tank. The skies are lit with beautiful stars masked with a light layer of fog with a half moon lighting up the sky. I must be letting myself go because I am so engrossed in the beauty of the sky, my sensitive ears don't register the sliding doors of the train that release Finnick Odair or the footsteps that follow him. I don't even notice him until he speaks, revealing himself to be stood no more than several inches from me to my right, in the Games, I would be dead long before that.

"Wow, you are getting fat." Finnick teases.

I raise my middle finger to attention on my right hand and made it visual to him, "You certainly know how to flatter a young woman don't you, Mr Odair." I tell him. Finnick laughs and moves to stand level with me. "Can I help you?" I ask.

"You knocked on my door and, Miss Hollern, I assumed you wanted something from me." Finnick replies. Signing heavily whilst nodding but then I pause with nerves, this was something they could get him killed, "Is there a reason why we are outside?" he asks me.

Again, I nod but this time I speak, "In there I felt like President Snow was listening and watching us, out here it's safer." I admit in a low whisper.

"What you're about to tell me involves Snow?" he asks.

"Yes." And then I tell him everything, the visit, the threat on everyone I loves lives plus mine and my unborn child. Finnick listens to me, unflinching despite me explain how Annie is on that list as well. I also tell him about what President Snow wants from me and how I need to convince him something he already knows, in some ways that is an impossible task because he already knows! And when I am done ranting and raving, the train has been refuelled and they are waiting on us now, but Finnick remains emotionless, his face hasn't shifted position for the passed fifteen minutes whilst his eyes never leave mine.

"Finnick?" I ask.

He doesn't flinch.

"Finnick?" I hiss.

Nothing.

A man comes over to us and asks what is going on because we are on a schedule, the urge to turn around and spit 'I don't care' in his face was almost overwhelming but an act such as that would be reported to the president and who knows what he might do to the people back in District 4.

"I'm sorry, he's drunk." I apologise to the worker, linking our arms and moving him sharply back into the train corridor where it was no longer safe to speak freely because of surveillance. I am angry at Finnick for suddenly zoning out but there is nothing I could do now, acting aloof could result in a 'mistake' back home for anyone I care about. Finnick knows that now and if he choices not to at least help, then he is signing his own life away.

I needed his advice and guidance but not as greatly as I may have previously believed. Cato may be gone but the love I have for him is not, seeing his picture and family in District 2 near the end of my Tour will bring countless emotions that are real and not forced like the sorrow I am going to have to pretend I feel when I am speaking in front of the families of the children I never knew nor had I wanted too.

As the train begins to move again, I leave Finnick stood in the doorway and retreat off to my bedroom expecting him to call after me but he doesn't. And despite the child inside of my still thinking that I am a punching bag, I attempt to sleep but I know that no sweet dreams will come to be tonight, only nightmares.

xxx

_I can feel the flames licking my face like a over friendly pet as I stand amongst the destruction. There is no District 4 anymore, I had failed them all. People screamed with pain and sadness as they watch the flames engulf their loved ones. All I could do, was stand by and watch the silent wave of fire strip the life from this once great district whilst the others watch in terror, the other victors now know the significance of their good behaviour, one false move, one mistake and send everything crumbling down before then and the worst part of it all, we are powerless. _

Awaking with a shock, I am covered in cold sweat and yet my body roars with heat like I was actually on fire. It was early, I knew that by the days new sun just peeking over the horizon as the train continued to shoot along the tracks however I am now fully awake so I don't attempt to fall back asleep, knowing that if I do new nightmares will cripple me.

Pulling off my shirt, a kick erupts from inside my swollen stomach, "Good morning, baby." I coo stroking my stomach tenderly, she kicks me again or it might have been a punch, I could never tell the difference. "It's going to be a difficult day, are you ready?" I ask her but I am given no kick or punch reply. The shower washing away the sweat and the heat relaxes my muscles but the water couldn't extinguish the worry fire inside my chest.

As I exit the bathroom in fresh undergarments, the electric door of my bedroom flings open – I must of forgotten to lock it last night – and Dieter Rollo rushes in with a large grin on his face. I almost feel glad he doesn't stare at my stomach or apologise for my state. My escort simply smiles at me with an odd emotion. "Breakfast is ready." he tells me but he doesn't leave, instead the young gentleman picks out a set of loose fitting trousers and a baggy silk shirt and hands them too be. As I dress into them, he waits and once I've pulled on my robe, he escorts me to the dinning carriage.

"Where is everyone else?" I ask as we sit not at the table but in plush arm chairs facing each other with a glass coffee table in between us. On pressing a button, the top splits in half and the base raises up food, it's the exact same table I had seen in my first meeting with Vibia before the Tribute Parade in the Capitol.

"They are getting ready. Coren with Finnick and Shazza with Michael, your prep-team wanted to work on your mentors first and you last to keep your look fresher for longer. And Vibia is no doubt sleeping, bless her soul, the poor girl was up all night organizing your garment car. It has over hundred outfits for you, day time wear and evening, all make especially for your... special condition." Dieter explains pouring me a cup of tea and offering me a biscuit. I accept but I am slightly angered, _special condition, _I knew this was going to be difficult for some people to understand but I would like to have hoped the man who mentored me for a week would treat me a little better.

It turns out that yesterdays make up and clothing sessions was simply to get me to the train station and that today I will get the irritating pleasure to go through all of that again. It will be colder in District 12, our first stop, I don't know that for a fact but if the bitter air was anything to go by last night, I may just freeze on stage. I would rather start the Victory Tour in any other district, since this was Waylon's home. But that isn't how the tour works, it kicks off in 12 and then goes in descending order to 1, followed by the Capitol. The victor's district is skipped and saved for the very last – however the celebration when I returned was deemed the fabulous homecoming the Capitol was expecting. We had managed to dodge the awkwardness of a dinner and parade of the square.

After breakfast is finished, I am joined in my bedroom by my prep-team who appear to be in a terrible condition as they knock back endless amounts of coffee and sharing brightly coloured pills. As far as I can tell these people have never gotten up before noon unless it was some sort of national emergency, like my leg hair for example. Seeing that I was home and in my first stages of pregnancy, I wasn't planning on wearing anything revealing so when my leg hairs began to grow back, I wasn't worried, in fact I kind of liked it, it was natural and healthy but also a sense that everything was as it should be. It was a shock to my brain not to hear there stupid and incompetent chatter but that left me being able to hear the gruesome noise of every strand of hair being yanked from its follicle. Then, I am soaked in a slippery bath of thick and unpleasant smelling oil whilst my face and hair are plastered with colourful creams. Two more baths follow in order to remove the first bath and wash away anything else. I am plucked and massaged until I am raw.

My baby kicks making her hand visible in the flesh making my prep-team jump and screech like tiny school children. "Relax," I tell them in a soothing voice rubbing my stomach, "She is just saying hello."

"She?!" Coren screeches, Shazza sighs.

I shrug, "I think it's a girl, she feels like a girl."

"Oh God, I hope so." Coren says leaning forward to peer close, his hand hesitates before he looks up at me, "May I?" he asks, I smile and nod. His cold hand touches the skin of my naked stomach, a kick pulses against his hand and he jerks away in surprise, "That's extraordinary." he whispers to himself. Shazza just looks at me with bewilderment.

However in short moments, they are back to their old ways, but the main focus of this chat was how I was not surgically altered after my games. Coren tells Shazza it was because of my pregnancy but Shazza seems determined I want to be altered after I have delivered which is insane. What the hell would I want to do that for, what could possible look good? Should I have my lips blown up like President Snows? Tattoo my breasts? Implant gems into my skin or dye my skin an bright red? Give myself whiskers or talons like a the mutations on the arena?

When I am done, I simply pull on my old clothes seeing at this was just the beginning and we all head down to the dinning carriage where I am annoyed to see that Dieter, Michael, Vibia and Finnick have all started without me but kicking up a fuss wont help, I am too weighted down to talk. They rave about the food and how excited they are. Well, everyone but Michael however that can be expected. I am not hungry but I force myself to eat a considerable amount for my child putting them first will be my life when I can properly hold her or him.

Dieter tries to bring me into conversation but I simply brush them off. I am in no mood to chat and almost like God is punishing me, the train makes an unscheduled stop, our server reports it will not be just for fuel but a part has malfunctioned and must be replaced before we continue our journey to 12 but that isn't the punishing part, it's when the man tells us it could be an hour before we start moving again and Dieter pulls out his schedule and begins to work out how the delay will impact every event for the rest of the tour.

"The schedule is already packed with events!" he whimpered, "Twelve days, twelve districts –"

"– But it's mostly parties and celebrations." Michael interjects.

Dieter slams his schedule on the table, "That's not the point, Michael! She has adoring fans to greet her at every spot along the way. I have arranged spa treatments not to mention wrapping everything up in the Capitol. We cannot be late for that, everything must be –"

"– Perfect?" Finnick teases.

Dieter's frown deepens, "Yes, an unscheduled stop could ruined everything. Anastasia should feel the need to enjoy her time in the spotlight, after all, she has earned it."

And suddenly, I couldn't take anymore. I haven't earned everything. "What did you say?" I demand, my voice silences all noise in the carriage. Finnick gives me approving glance but I ignore it and instead stare at the idiotic monkey that calls himself a man.

"I said 'enjoy it, Anastasia, you've earned it'" says Dieter, as if what he said was completely appropriate.

I scoff, "By killing innocent children." And then I leave, both filled with rage but also incredibly upset to suddenly be shown how narrow minded the people of the Capitol – who don't even participate in the Games – can be, they should have no say because they will never understand the horror of the Games, they just bet and watch us die, it's sickening.

Considering the dinning carriage was at the front of the train, in order to get the furthest away, the back carriage seemed the best bet. A curved bay window decorates the back wall allowing the people inside to watch the tracks and where they have led from as well as the surroundings. Now it's trees but decorated in fresh snow, it visibly looked colder than District 4. I sit on the fabric cover that is lined perfectly beneath the window so I can peer out. As I am studying the wildlife beyond the window, I hear the hissing of locks releasing and the door sliding open.

"I am really not in the mood for a lecture." I say firmly, "I'll apologise to Dieter later."

A chuckle echoes from the compartment, "You're a terrible liar. Plus you don't have to apologise to anyone."

I turn at neck breaking speed to see Finnick edging his way towards me, "I thought you were Michael."

"Well I'm not, so lower your guard." he says tensely before seating himself down beside me, flared out in the same manor that Garrett had when we watched the reaping videos in this very carriage, it hadn't changed, the television was still embedded in the far wall and the arrangement of flowers were as I remember.

Despite sitting inches away from each other, we don't speak. A part of me is still angry about him zoning out but the other half of me wants to cut him some slack because it was a lot to absorb in several seconds and it did involve his life and the only person he truly loved life as well.

"I'm sorry about last night." he suddenly speaks.

Shrugging, "It's okay, I understand." I say.

Finnick shakes his head, "It was rude of me to suddenly zone out like that, you needed my help and I completely caved. I am actually embarrassed." he admits making me tense with real laugh, "What?" he questions.

"I'm proud of myself, who would have thought that a short, pregnant sixteen-year old would actually make the brilliant sex-god-of-the-Capitol feel embarrassed." I tease prodding him in the shoulder. He slapped my hand away in a brotherly manor.

"Did you actually just call me the sex-god-of-the-Capitol?" he asks.

I shake my head, "No."

"You did!"

"Never."

We laugh like children but soon it faded. Finnick smiles at me sadly, as our eyes meet the baby kicks and my hands fly to my stomach to assure her everything is okay. Finnick must of caught the panic in my limbs and removes my hands from my stomach and replaces them with his. Annie would sit for hours with her hands on my stomach, it almost soothed her when the baby kicks her palms.

"You know what you have to do." Finnick tells me, his eyes not shifting from his hands.

I sign heavily, "Yes, but I don't know how to convince someone something that they already know."

"Anastasia, you love Cato, even though you know he gone, you still love him as if he is alive. That's perfect, the entire nation saw you on television, everyone witnessed the greatest love story since Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark." he tells me strong.

"But Katniss didn't love Peeta." I argue.

Finnick shrugs, "Doesn't matter, by pretending she managed to convince everyone that she did. You don't need to pretend, you just need to convince – trust me, you have nothing to worry about."

"But Snow threatened –"

"– President Snow would never publicly or secretly kill you nor your child because it would almost certainly end up in an uprising. He wouldn't risk it." Finnick assures me.

I suppose that was true, no one would believe the accident report on whatever President Snow has planned for me, defiantly not after my games, the refusal and the pregnancy. Despite not being the crowds favourite, I cannot find myself believing that if I did die and my child also perished that anyone would be happy about it, maybe possibly angered because I may not be innocent anymore but my child is.

"We are almost at District 12, you should go and get ready before Dieter has another fit." Finnick tells me softly removing his hands from my stomach before patting my shoulder comfortingly.

I trail off to my compartment where I allow Shazza and Coren to do my hair and make-up. Vibia comes in holding a two items of clothing; a black one-piece jump suit with see-through sleeves and a long, dark grey overcoat. The dark colours of the outfit makes me believe that Vibia is trying to grasps the colours of the district and certainly judging by the reaping video I remember watching and the flickers of District 12 life led me to believe that it was dark and gloomy to live there but this was Waylon's home for thirteen years, I try to grasp how President Snow would allow the population to live like they do.

Once I am made to look pretty enough for the cameras, Dieter gathers myself and my mentors together before going through the programme for today one last time. In some districts the victor will ride through the city whilst the residents cheer but in 12 – maybe because there's not much of a city or they don't want to waste their time – my public appearance is confined to the square where the yearly reapings take place in front of the Justice Building, a worn out wooden building which once stood strong and beautiful but the years. Surrounding the square are grey buildings that aren't properly looked after and run-down shops that have been abandoned. Watching the reaping video I wonder where the wealthy live in District 12, it certainly wasn't here.

My entire public appearance will be staged on a temporary stage set up in front of the building. I will be introduced by the mayor of 12 before he gives a speech in our honour where we will give a scripted thank you in reply which is provided by the Capitol. If the victor had any special allies amongst the fallen tributes, it is considered respectful to add a few personal notes. I really should say something about Waylon but every time I try to write it at home, I ended up teary eyed and a white sheet of paper with the words: _I'm sorry _staring me in the face. It's really hard to speak about him without getting emotional. At the end of the ceremony, I will be presented with some sort of a plaque before withdrawing to the Justice Building where a special dinner will be served.

As the train pulls into the train station at District 12, Vibia puts the finishing touches to my outfit, my trinket from Dieter and Cato's necklace. There is no welcoming committee on the platform but I didn't expect cheering and waving fans. I have no fans. However I didn't expect there to be eight Peacekeepers who direct us to a thick metal car. Dieter seems angered as the door closes behind us, "Do you think that we're all criminals?" he asks.

_Not all of us, _I think, _just me. _However I can tell my the flicker in Finnick and Michael's eyes that they think the same as me.

The truck takes us to the back of the Justice Building, we hurry inside because they haven't left us any time to look around. We make a beeline through the back entrance as the anthem begins to play, then someone chips in on the microphone, Michael kisses my cheek for good luck, the mayor introduces me as the massive doors open with a groan.

"Stand up straight, eyes bright, smiles on." Dieter orders softly nudging me forwards. The bright lights of the dark sun blinds me as I step out to greet the mayor. Their round of applause is loud but false and suddenly I am hotter than a sinner in church. I belong in hell for the things I have done in order to survive and as the mayor touches my arm, brining me in for a half hearted hug, his eyes burn with hatred that is masked with his light grey eyes which say: Welcome to hell.

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><p><strong>AN:**_ Next chapter is Waylon's district, no doubt emotions will run wild with the sight of her old ally and friend but knowing she was his killer will so flicker strange emotions and will his family forgive her or will they refuse? Tell me what you think and make sure you guys review because with the lack of you responding I feel this may not be a great story so please, review. _


	6. Chapter 6: District 12

Chapter Six.

**Fallen Tributes of District 12; Waylon Marsden and Danette Lennox.**

I continue to walk until myself and the mayor had reached the microphone on the center of the temporary stage. Banners hung from every building in an attempt to add colour to the faded surroundings but it failed miserably. As usual near to the back of the crowd gathered, two special platforms for the families of the fallen tributes with large televisions showing a constant rerun of the head-shot photos of the children lost to this years Hunger Games. On the platform to the left is Danette's mother – a bony woman with grey hair – and a small boy who I assume is Danette's brother, he resembles his fallen sister in a rather gruesome way with the same large set eyes in a dark grey with dark hair. More chillingly, he cannot look any older than fourteen meaning it could have easily been his name called out during the reaping, it could have been his face in the sky or blood on my hands.

To the right on Waylon's side... I am not prepared for his family, I know his sister is ill and seeing as she is not present on the stage, I regret to think she may have passed but that doesn't stop his mother standing alone. Her shoulders hunched with faded skin and a swollen stomach like me. Mrs Marsden is pregnant. A lump forms in my throat and my hands shake so violently I am in threat of dropping them but I manage to keep my composure but I avoid any and all looks from the broken families.

The applause dies down and the mayor gives the speech in my honour. One little girl in a pretty blue frock adventures onto the stage to give me a tremendous bouquet of flowers. I do my best to stick to the scripted reply and then it's left to me and my thanks, glancing down at Dieter's card he had given me to follow with a brief thank you summery to the fallen tributes, how they fought so hard and the pairs death is something that will never been forgotten in my mind but I know it's all lies and I can tell by the faces in the audience and the cries on the platforms, they know too. Putting down the cards, I can almost hear Dieter Rollo gasps and frown in anger but I don't care. These broken families deserve to hear the truth for once in their lives. They deserve to know how their children are braver than most. They need to hear a real apology for their deaths.

I allow myself to stare into the eyes of the picture of Danette, I didn't know her, never once had I spoken to her or really paid attention but she meant something to Waylon and therefore, automatically, meant something to me. Once I had been silent for a little while, I found the eyes of Mrs Lennox, "I'm sorry," I tell her through the microphone, "I didn't know Danette, I never spoke to her but I envied her, the way Waylon called too her after she died when he was in trouble, made me realise that surviving was more than being able to kill, it was the people that made the impact on your survival and the thought that even after she had passed, Waylon still needed her. Danette was loved because she was a protector. In so many ways, that's the reason why Waylon lived beyond the bloodbath that day. She was an unsung hero." I finish because I cannot continue, talking crap was not helping me but instead digging myself a larger hole to bury myself in however it was true, Waylon's calls for Danette was the only reason I knew he was in trouble and the only reason why I knew where he was. Despite being already gone, Danette saved a life.

Mrs Marsden's body tightened awkwardly as my gaze falls upon her, "I did know your son," I tell her, "He was the only thing in the arena that made me realise that keeping another person alive was a much better reward than winning, but I'm sorry, I couldn't save him." Now I see tears in the eyes of the District 12 population, frail people with nothing to lose actually where being touched by what I had to say, "I see him in my nightmares, his name on my lips as I wake knowing that if I wasn't such a coward in the first several minutes, I could have been better help. He was too young, too gentle. And I couldn't save him. I'm sorry." Then it happened, almost as if it had been what she was waiting for, the mother of the boy I had murdered smiled a wholesome smile before nodding her head in approval.

However I am not satisfied I have done enough to apologise, when I return to District 4 I don't just return home, I return to the pile of bricks that remains mine. The endless amounts of money and endless supply of water, food, heating and electricity. Not to mention the ability to have medical attention without worrying about the prices. I can really help these families mend themselves, a speech cannot do that.

The crowd claps thinking that I have finished, I speak back directly to the families. "But knowing this can, in no way replace your loses, but as a token of my thanks and gratitude, I'd like for each of the tributes families from District Twelve to receive one month of my winnings every year for the duration of my life." I speak clearly, emotionless but proud into the microphone and feel satisfied by the stifled gasps. There is no precedent for what I have just done, to be honest I am not entirely sure if it's legal but I don't care anymore.

As for the families of Danette and Waylon, they simply stare at me in shock because their lives where changed forever when their children where brutally murdered but this gift will change them again. A month of a tributes winnings can easily provide for a family for a year. As long as I live, they will not go hungry. Almost in a deliberate fashion, the mayor presents me with a small plaque, despite the tiny size of the plaque, I still need to put down my flowers in order to hold it – the rest of the public viewing goes by in a quick blur but I still have a dinner to prepare for and as soon as the mayor bids goodbye to the crowd and I smile a fake Capitol smile to the audience before being escorted back into the Justice Building and whisked away to be prepared for a evening of acting happy, smile and thankful.

xxx

When I entered the room reserved for me getting ready, I am bombarded with compliments from my prep-team about how proud they are of me however it's not because of the words I spoke but how I stood up straight and spoke clearly. As I try to zone out but find myself unable so I listen to them talk on and on mindlessly, I couldn't stop the feeling of a black cloud forming over me. How could they be so excited? How can they possibly be so completely oblivious to everything that had been going on for the passed six months and then add this? But more importantly, are they going to be like this the entire Victory Tour?

A hot shower and several hours worth of make-up, hair styling and eventually dressing gives me the finishing product for this evenings dinner with District 12's mayor, high up members of their council but also, newly added for this year, the previous victors of District 12 have been asked to attend. Meaning I will be meeting the only three living victors from Twelve, Haymitch Abernathy, Peeta Mellark and Willow Combe.

My dining outfit is a maxi dress in black, it doesn't cling thankfully and hangs loosely only coming in at the waist to highlight my stomach which pisses me off because it's almost as if Vibia is using that as an idea, possibly playing in her head, _I wonder how big I can make Anastasia look. _She doesn't make me remove my necklace which previously belonged to Cato or my trinket from Dieter – who is furiously annoyed I put down his cards – and only made me wear a silver headband to keep my fringe from my face.

Dieter announces everything is ready. We join back up with my brother and mentor before walking through the corridors of the Justice Building into the grand hall which is beautifully decorated in velvets and silks with a long dining table made of oak. Every seat has it's own plate and selection of cutlery that I don't know how to use. Before everything is served, the mayor insists that I meet everybody in the room, including his daughter Madge who made no effort to hid her disgust of me.

I am annoyed by her attitude because it isn't like she would ever be endanger of being reaped, in District 4 its a little different, the jobs in place pay good money and many children don't need to put their names in the reaping bowl more but when you're surrounding by starving children who need to put themselves at risk in order to survive, you have no right to complain about the Hunger Games, really.

When it comes to meeting Haymitch, Peeta and Willow, tensions where high and my hand clammy from shaking so many others but it is very noticeable from first glance at Mr Abernathy, he is drunk. Peeta and Willow almost look embarrassed when the over-friendly man knocks my hand away refusing to shake it and engulfs me in a hug. "Well done, Miss Hollern." he whispers huskily in my ear. From the corner of my eye I see Finnick staring at us and so with discreet shuffling, I manage to silently plead for his help. The younger victor taps the elder on the shoulder forcing him to release me from his death grip and leave me alone to invade my ex-mentors personal space.

Willow Combe shakes my hand, congratulating me on my victory and pregnancy like she is scripted to do so but she also makes an extra effort to express her gratitude towards me for trying to protect Waylon during the Games. She wasn't a mentor this year, despite being a brand-new victor only winning her Games last year, she hasn't been dumped into the role of a mentor yet, maybe next year when I could possibly be roped into advising a poor child on how to survive or kill another will Willow be forced to do the same. Willow won her games with the natural instincts of being a hunter, like Katniss Everdeen she used a bow and arrow to kill her fellow tributes from a distance very rarely getting into a brawl with another child. However even with the advantage of killing from afar, Willow has only four strikes to her name – the same as me. I attempt to make small talk with the girl who is only a year or so older than I but she makes it clear that speaking to strangers – or other killers – doesn't make her feel comfortable and so shortly after being introduced, we casually make excuses and she leaves.

Peeta Mellark awkwardly approaches me almost like I am hurting him but he manages to stand opposite me. Neither of us know what to say to each other however in some ways, we are similar people me and Peeta. Both of us watched the person we loved die in our arms, all at the hands of President Snow's twisted game.

After some time, the young man steps forward to shake my hand but goes a step further to lean forwards to kiss my left cheek. "What you did out there, with the victors money, was really brave." Peeta compliment, I smiled at him actually surprised by his words. Was he lying to me and real thinks I am stupid?

I smile, "Well, something needs to be done about life here." I reply firmly, his face drops and I suddenly feel rude by my opinion, "I meant the quality." O_h no, made it worse, _"Both tributes were far too young." I try to clear up my previous mistakes but my voice is suddenly filled with panic but Peeta laughs at my attempt.

Peeta shakes his head, "I knew what you meant, Anastasia," he replies, his blue eyes break connection with mine as his hands rummage in his pockets for something and then he pulls it free from the pocket of his outfit he wore and held it in his hands, "This was Katniss' in the arena, seeing you in there reminded me of her and I know she would want you too have it." he tells me thrusting the object into my hand.

The cold metal cooks down my sweaty palms and when I open my hand to see the object, it's as if someone fashioned a small golden bird and then attached a ring around it. The bird is connected to the ring only by its wing tips and an arrow clutched in his talons. I suddenly recognize it.

A mockingjay.

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><p><strong>AN:** _Make sure you guys review on this chapter. How do you guys like the idea of Peeta giving Anastasia the mockingjay pin? Please review!_


	7. Chapter 7: District 11

Chapter Seven.

**Fallen Tributes of District 11; Deana Grindle and **Talon Lazarus******.**

I sit in the last carriage staring out the window, I can see the sweep of beautiful landscape, huge open fields with herds of black-and-white dairy cattle grazing in them. We slow sightly and I think we might be coming in for another stop but then, a fence rises up before me. Towering at least ten meters into the air and topped with wicked coils of barbed wire, it almost makes our fence back in District 4 look childish. My eyes inspect the base which is lined with enormous metal plates. There would be no escape from this district. Then I see the watchtowers, placed evenly apart with armed Peacekeepers which look so out of place amongst the fields of wild flowers around them.

I remember seeing District 11 when my brother went on his Victory Tour, the guards were stood by and armed whilst a small selection of the district watching with stiff bodies and sour faces, this was the most dangerous districts.

Now the crops begin, stretched out as far as the eyes can see. Men, women and children wearing straw hats to keep off the sun straightened up, turning our way and take a moment to stretch their back as they watch my train go by. I can see orchards in the distance and I wonder if that's where Deana would have worked, collecting fruits. Small communities of shacks – by comparison to the homes in District 12, they are up scale – spring up here and there but they're all deserted. Every hand must be needed for the harvest.

On and on it goes. I cannot believe the size of District 11, I wonder how many people live here, in school they refer to it as a large district, that's all. No actual figures where given to us on the population but those kids we see on the camera waiting for the reaping every year, they cannot be all the children but just a sample of the ones who actually live here. What do they do on reaping days? Have preliminary drawings? Pick the winners ahead of time and back sure they're in the crowd? How exactly did all those twelve-year-olds end up in the crowd and how did Deana end up on that stage with nothing but the wind offering to take her place? She was so close to never entering the games, by her size and appearances, I cannot imagine she was much older than eighteen but that wasn't her lucky day, and I killed her a week later.

I begin to feel weary of the vastness and the endlessness of this place. When Dieter comes to tell me to get dressed, I don't object. I go to my compartment and let my prep-team do my hair and make-up. Vibia comes in with a beautiful orange frock patterned with autumn leaves. And then he pins on my mockingjay pin that I had gotten since Peeta Mellark in District 12.

"Won't it be cold?" I whisper to Finnick.

He shakes his head, "Not in District 11, no." he tells me.

Dieter goes through the programme of the day in exactly the same fashion as yesterday and similarly to the public appearance in District 12, we will not be making a round of the district, maybe because it's too big or too dangerous. I did kill their female tribute after all. And so, like yesterday, the public appearance will be confined to just the square, it takes place before their Justice Building, a huge marble structure which was once a thing of beauty but time has taken its toll and the ivy has overtaken the crumbling building and the sagged roof. I will have my appearance on what Dieter calls a veranda, the tiled expanse between the front doors and the stairs that is shaded by a roof supported by columns. Like before, I will be introduced before the mayor reads a speech which I will reply with the same reply as yesterday.

Peacekeepers holding guns greet us at the station where I am stuffed into the back of an armoured truck and driven to the back of the Justice Building. Awkwardly, I am forced to meet the previous victors – Chaff, Ferris, Beckette, Seeder and Vienna – before the celebration dinner. The anthem starts playing and then someone speaks on the microphone suddenly the mayor was saying my name and the massive doors open, I walk across the shaded veranda until the roof runs out and I am standing at the top of a big flight of marble stairs in the glaring sun. As my eyes adjust to the light, I am swallowed whole by the sight of the people from District 11, it's packed but again, it's just a fraction of the number who truly lives here.

There is a loud applause but you can almost feel the hatred in the arena. Today I decide to stick to the cards that Dieter has prepared for me, considering I cannot even will myself to look over to the risen platforms where the fallen tributes families are stood but that is because my first kill was from District 11, she name was Deana, I killed her with a dagger she was going to kill Waylon with. I watched her die on top of me and felt her warm blood wet my hand and face.

"Thank you." I mumble into the microphone which makes me sound like I am shouting once the applause has warn out. "It's a honour to be here, with the families of your fallen tributes who all fought with dignity and power until the end..." my voice trails off as I mindlessly speak the words on the card. This is all lies. Deana died in the first several minutes, she did not die with dignity and had only one thing on her mind during the bloodbath, killing a twelve-year-old boy whilst he called for his dead tribute partner. That isn't brave.

"Our lives aren't measured –"

"– BOO!" someone screamed from the audience. I look up to see the man stood beneath the picture of Deana on the family platform whose face reddens in anger against his dark skin. No doubt he is her father, he waves his first angrily in the air, "YOU'RE A MURDER! YOU KILLED MY DAUGHTER!" He bellows through the crowd which begins to shout and boo along with the angered man. Suddenly, someone rushes the stage but it caught by a Peacekeeper who wrestles the young woman to the ground and gives her a firm punch before removing her but that doesn't stop the rest of the district present from shoving forwards whilst shoulder abuse. They begin to chant murder at me. Which is when the entire guard squad began to get violent keeping the crowd back.

"Come with me." a Peacekeeper ordered gripping me by the elbow and escorting me back into the Justice Building. Michael meets me in the polished corridor where the Peacekeeper gives us no chance to stop and speak. "You and your party are leaving." he orders us into the back of the armoured truck, once back in the open I can hear the shouts from the angry people of District 11. We arrive back at the train, the door closes swiftly behind us but I can still hear the footsteps echoing as he makes his way back to the town square. Vibia, Dieter, Shazza and Coren all shout questions at me but I cannot focus, the man's voice is louder and echoes more violently inside my head as I leave my team bickering and asking question to lay on my bed before staring like a crazy person at the same bit of ceiling.

_Murder._

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><p><strong>AN:** _Well, the Victory Tour isn't off to a very good start, but do you think it'll continue on this way? Review on what you think of this chapter._


	8. Chapter 8: District 10

Chapter Eight.

**Fallen Tributes of District 11; Cassandra Potter and **Omar Stokes.****

District 10 smelt strongly of animals with herds of sheep and odd chickens wondering through the street as I was paraded through the streets with the ground shaking with cheers and applause. Like the two districts before and the nine to come, I'm to have my public appearance in front of the Justice Building in the center of the districts. My mockingjay pin is clipped to my outfit on the left side of my chest over my heart.

When I am introduced to the audience, they clap and cheer. I'm not sure why they sound so happy, or maybe they are just good at acting but maybe it was because I was allies with one of their tributes. Her name was Cassandra Potter, on her reaping video she tripped up the stairs onto the stage and before the Tribute Parade she did the same but tripped over the bottom of her dress. During our first training sessions, we formed an alliance after I taught her to throw knives in exchange for information on the different kinds of herbal medicine. Cassandra's death was the result of a trident to the back, not thrown by me but my district partner, Garrett. He actually saved my life because she was trying to kill me, I knew it was because the games had crawled inside her head making her unable to tell the difference between friends and enemies. Before Cassandra died, she apologised for her attempt to kill me and then asked me to sing to her until she died. I agreed.

Once the crowd has quietened down, I pause for a second, willing myself to look up at the families of the fallen tributes. I didn't even know the boys name from this district until Dieter had informed me on the drive here. His name was Omar but that is all I knew. On the platform to my left beneath his picture was an entire family which were all red eyed from crying, no doubt dreading the day they will have to face the victor, an elder woman who looked too young to be his mother – this was a woman who clutched the hand of a man her age – under the arm of the girl was a young boy who was the spitting image of the boy on screen.

On the platform to my right beneath the picture of Cassandra are her parents. A pale woman with well built body and a hideous bruise on her forearm, her brown hair is pinned back harshly revealing facial features outstandingly familiar to her daughter. I feel almost sad to be seeing her like this, despite not killing her child I feel guilty that I couldn't protect her from, well, herself. However, as my eyes flicker to the incredibly well built man to her left, I am consumed by anger. I remember Cassandra telling me how she used to watch her father beat her mother, no doubt that is where the bruise on her wrist came from.

"It truly is an honour to be here today," I begin, Dieter must have paid some attention to my alliance with this tribute, "It is believed that our lives aren't measured in years, but they are measured in the lives that we touch around us. Personally, I didn't know Omar but Cassandra, I consider – not just then but still – one of my closest friends. She was brave and skilled with a troubled passed that was hidden until the darkest moments of our time in the arena." I say, my voice is shaped into a blade that is aimed at Cassandra's father, I wanted him to be exposed for the evil demon he is but at what cost? It's very unlikely that Mrs Potter will want her abusive husbands act released to the entire nation plus an act such as that could get me in serious trouble with President Snow.

"During our time in the arena, I witnessed the change in Cassandra, especially after she took her first life in the games, all because of the death before,. I have a strong belief that she really cared about her mutual ally, Alden. And that is what's so horrible... knowing that..." _oh holy shit, don't cry Anastasia, don't do it. Finish up this quickly and get the hell out, _"Because of these games, they would never get the chance to have a life together." I mumble into the microphone, the tears began to form in the linings of my eyes.

Suddenly, a rich voice echoed through the silence of the crowd, "_Go to sleep, rest upon your bed, may this night bring dreams to your head,_" I try to find the voice of the young woman who has began to sing but I cannot find her time before someone else sings the next few lines, "_Hear my voice,, never let it die, keep this lullaby._" this time, the shallow voice belonged to a young man. Then my eyes fall on Cassandra's mother who takes this opportunity to smile at me, her eyes flashed with pride before she takes it upon herself to sing the next few lines, "_Soon the sun shall set on, long it will be 'til dawn, never from you will I be gone._" she sings boldly, with no fear of what could happen to her. Without fear of the possible beating from her husband she may receive for this. She is fearless, and I love it.

Then what happens next, almost appears rehearsed as I watch the crowd, every single member be them elderly or young, they all press the three middle fingers of their left hands against their lips and extend them to me. In the arena it was my way of signalling goodbye to my fallen tributes, this simple gesture was the goodbye signal I used after I mercy killed Waylon, after I'd watched Alden be sliced open and die and then finally when Cassandra met her end. Each one of my alliances families should be familiar with this signal and it's heart warming to know that, despite the horrid things I had done to stay alive, that the small good deeds didn't go unnoticed. And as the song closed to an end, the entire square was shaking with the sound of voices, and from now and forever onwards, District 10 will be the place of music, the birth and resting place of Cassandra Potter's lullaby.

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><p><strong>AN:** _Well, here is Cassandra's goodbyes. How do you guys feel about the district coming together and them actually having registered the bond Cassandra and Anastasia had in the arena before her ally went a bit odd. I'm actually really upset because I have only one favourite and one follow, compared to how many I had on the first story, I would really like to hear more back from you guys because I am starting to doubt my writing ability. So please, review, follow and favourite if you guys are actually enjoying this... please. _


	9. Chapter 9: Repetition

Chapter Nine.

**Repetition.**

I can say several things about this useless tour, but I'll say it in a way all emotions and feelings are released in three very simply yet powerful words; _it's fucking terrible. _Honestly how any victor can actually enjoy this unless they are already mad or from the Career district's is beyond me. Every morning I wake knowing I will have to face the families who have lost a child and a districts who haven't won. Each day is the same boring routine: wake up. Get dressed. Ride through cheering crowds who secretly want my head on a stick. Listen to a speech in my honour before giving a scripted thank-you reply, supplied to me by the Capitol. Since District 10 until now there has been no person additions to add meaning that the public appearances have been shorter, thank God but that doesn't cloud the horridness of standing before a lost district. Sometimes I am allowed to have a brief tour but most people just flap about my pregnancy and how it's too much work for me, despite being perfectly capable. Dress into a evening outfit. Attend a dinner and meet the previous victors of the district. And then, back to the train.

In the last two districts, even without the personal speeches to trigger a reaction, the ones I had given in Twelve and Ten have sparked something. Not so much in the last district I visited for the tour – District 8 – but for the visit to Nine, they must have still been feeding off the performance because as random people chant my name and the Peacekeepers move in to quiet the crowd, some press back rather than retreating. My stomach knotted as I felt the camera's on me, gobbling up my reaction like it was waiting for something, like President Snow was waiting for a reaction which would give him the reason who destroy District 4. To kill my family and friends. He craved that one flicker of emotion that would enable him to keep a straight line therefore, in order to keep the 'peace' eliminations must be made. My home.

However if these people were to fight back, President Snow couldn't destroy us all. He would have no one to rule and he cannot put everyone into his Hunger Games. Eventually, Snow must register in his mind that hope is much stronger than fear but at this moment, it is fear that keeps me earthbound with a simply plan to keep out of the limelight as much as possible, say things that won't get me in too much trouble, smile sweetly inside of frowning and, above all, be falsely thankful.

And as I watch the sun appear over the horizon, plastering the sky with oranges, reds, yellows and pinks. I knew it was a new day. A new district, number seven out of the twelve still standing.

Lumber, trees.

Home to the reaped siblings of District 7, Jacqueline and Alden Calevi.

One friend, another foe.

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><p><strong>AN:** _This one is a short chapter so sorry but I felt considering that I've left out some districts that I needed some sort of chapter to divide it up. Anyway, make sure you review and favourite/follow if you are enjoying._


	10. Chapter 10: District 7

Chapter Ten.

**Fallen Tributes of District 7; Alden and Jacquline ******Calevi.****

Thick green forests of tall strong trees surrounded this district giving me more than a few brilliant place I could sprint off too and hide away from this public appearance and believe you me, if running was physically possible right now I would be considering it a lot more than I already am. Just knowing that outside the front doors of the Justice Building in which I stand shaking like a leaf in a icy breeze, is not two platforms for the fallen tributes, but one. A single platform for two fallen tributes because this year, the reaped tributes from District 7, where twins and the only children of the Calevi household. Beyond those large, polished wooden doors with large brass handles and knockers, is one mother and one father who are now completely childless and no doubt pass their peek to have anymore. However would they really want to bring more children into this life knowing that as soon as they turn twelve they could be sent to the same place their already dead siblings went to die. And if that isn't bad enough, I knew both tributes but for different reasons: Alden, I was allies with. He taught me how to wield an axe and capture a deer using pieces of string but Jacqueline, I wasn't allies with, instead, I witnessed her split the stomach of her brother open as he hung upside-down from a tree after being caught in a trap. Jacqueline killed her own brother, granted, that isn't the real reason this makes this public appearance additionally scarring, it's worse than the others because I allowed Alden's love interest, Cassandra from District 10, to both physically and mentally torture/tease her before Cassandra eventually drowned her, but even worse than that?

I joined in – yes, you read that correctly, I evilly joined in to make Jacqueline beg for death and can I tell you something even more revolting, I actually enjoyed it. Inside my mind, she killed her own brother because a Career Tribute told her too, she's lucky we didn't do worse things to her before Cassandra drowned her in a pond which we had stumbled into after being attacked by Capitol bird mutations.

"I cannot do this." I say to Michael as we stand in a study to the right of the front doors, waiting for a Peacekeeper to collect us. My brothers eyes became blunt and annoyed, we had been over this before and he had managed to coax me into thinking it was going to be okay, but now I know they are so close. My stomach as twisted into a knot and my rib-cage condensed to the size of a can. "How could you ever think this was going to be okay? I verbally fucked with her mind until she was begging for death! You and the entire nation where watching me do this! Not to mention, you fucking mother and father whom I am going to be facing in... three minutes!" I almost scream.

"Will you calm down?" he snaps.

My neck extends outwards in complete shock to his words, "Calm down? That is your brilliant piece of advice to me? CALM THE FUCK DOWN?" I bellow. Michael steps forwards me and I jerk away. I move in the same fashion someone would before receiving a punch. I actually flinched away from my elder brother.

"Listen to me." Michael growls. "I know this is difficult for you and no-one is themselves in the Games, you must understand that despite the fact that we may advice you don't add personal notes to avoid an argument from the entire district. You will anyway. I know you. Do you really think that it's just you dreading this? You don't think that family out there who lost not one, but two of their children. Their only children, they are now childless, do you think they want to see you?" he asks.

Shaking my head, I sigh heavily, "Of course not. We're all the same –" I trail off because suddenly the realisation has hit me of what Michael was saying. Alden's parent's don't want to see me almost as much as I them. Both of us are being forced here but President Snow, the actions and sudden responsibilities being forced upon us are all brought on by the same person. The only person truly responsibility for all this killing, suffering and awkwardness. "– Boat." I finish. "They don't want to see me and I don't want to see them. They don't want lies told and I don't want to tell lies. They want to hear the truth as much as I want to tell it."

"So what are you going to do?" Michael asked almost as if it wasn't a real question, because granted it wasn't because I already knew the answer. I look up at my elder sibling just as the study door opened to reveal a man dressed in a smart white uniform that was only ever given to Peacekeeper's over the nation. He wore a helmet to completely the outfit despite not actually needing it.

He gestured for us to come forward towards the door and as I do, before leaving my brother in the room. I turn to him with a smile and simply say, "I'm going to tell them the truth."

**xxx**

The mayor introduced me. As confidently as my shaking body would allow me to be, I walked out into the cool sunlight. In my hand I clench the cards that Dieter had handed to me in the corridor seconds before I was called out for my public appearance. The crowd clapped but their was a mixture of enthusiastic claps and sour claps that I knew where from the friends of Jacqueline. Before I had even started, a boo erupted from the base of the platform which was now placed meters back but directly in front of me. _Give me a chance, _I think before inspecting the structure. The platform was larger due to the screen balancing on metal beams, the screen was now brightened with the faces of the Calevi twins and it is only now I see them together, I realise how similar they really are and how different since the last time I laid eyes on them. Alden fish-flesh white from blood loss and Jacqueline blue from deoxygenation. Below their now fake bright and living faces where the real, puffy red from crying and burning with hatred faces of their parents. Their children-less parents.

When the crowd has silenced, I thanked them and began to read the induction from my cards, "I am honoured to be here with all today, and to be the families –" Pause, the crowd as caught on yet, "family." I correct myself, "Of your fallen tributes. I wanted to share with you the sorrow of your losses. The tributes of this –"

"– Tell us what you really think!" a bellow came from the crowd and I felt revealed because I was beginning to fall asleep myself listening to me read the stupid words Dieter manages to work into a sentence. And when I look up to see the voice of my abrupt stop was from the Mrs Calevi, I feel myself momentarily choke. "Don't read what's on the cards in front of you. They aren't from you. I want to hear from you about my children." she demands.

Licking the inner-rims of my bottom lip which I have chewed to shreds. I can't, speaking this will get you killed, get us all killed. I won't risk this because Alden and Jacqueline knew how I felt about them. They knew the gravity of my feels through the actions I expressed, Alden by trusting him and Jacqueline through, well killing her. "I can't." I mouth before looking down at my cards, "The tributes from this district will reign as noble warriors through my honour to their families and prayer to their people..."

As tears form in my eyes at the horrid wails of Mrs Calevi crying, a hand shoots up with the middle three-fingers raised high to me. I momentarily watch a Peacekeeper quickly grab the man by the arm and hauling him out of the crowd, my head flickers to the side to see Finnick, he just nods towards the card urging me to finish because only he knows the true impact this tour will have on our lives. Our own happiness hangs in the balance, Michael doesn't know that.

"We are all of us united, both victors and vanquished, and serving a common purpose." I say before looking down at the card to see the most insulting six words possible to say to a grieving district, I haven't had to say them until now, but to make this believable, I knew I would have too. "Panem today. Panem tomorrow." breath deep. "Panem forever."

However as I stare into the eyes of Alden's mother, the same green eyes as I remember in the arena. I am shocked with how I caved, telling my brother I was going to tell the truth when really I just dished out the shit Dieter wrote down for me to say. I am cowardly and gutless. I am a let down and so before I am to leave, I turn back to look at the family who has lost everything and we a slight grin, I kiss the middle fingers on my left hand and raise them to the crowd. They cheer and the parents grin almost in satisfaction. A harmless symbol cannot get me in trouble, surely. And then I am engulfed and whisked away by my prep-team before I get a chance to experience the rather of Michael Hollern.

**xxx**

"You are a ballsy kid." This was the first thing said to me when I was introduced to Johanna Mason inside the Justice Building dinning hall. He wore a fashionable pair of black leather trousers and a deep green blouse with high heels that elongated her extremely slender body. Her black hair with purple strips has been cropped short with a zigzag fringe. Dark make-up concealed her naturally brown eyes from looking innocent. In one of her freshly scarred hand she holds a pretty glass filled with an alcoholic smelling liquid which made me feel sick but Johanna had something about her I found almost enduring, she was innocent looking but with the ability to easily kill. Her lack of manors made me feel like I didn't have to tip-toe to sound polite and she honestly acted as if she didn't give a crap about me being friends and/or enemies with her tributes this year. Johanna Mason almost made me feel, well, normal. She reaches forwards to place a hand unexpectedly on my stomach making me jump, which in return she smiles devilishly at me, inside my stomach my baby kicks hitting the spot where Johanna's palm is rested, "Dude, that's fucking freaking!" she exclaims shaking her hand and laughing which only brought me to laugh as well. Once we had calmed down, she move a lock of fabric which has fallen in front of my mockingjay pin. "You're really getting into the role of this bird huh? The whistle, the salute and now the pin –"

"It was a gift." I interrupted.

Johanna raised an eyebrow at me, "From Peeta Mellark?" she asks.

I nod. "It was Katniss'."

"He has been holding onto that thing for all these years?" she asks in bewilderment, "Wow, he needs to find himself a girlfriend that actually loves him." she chuckled.

"I thought I was the only one who didn't believe the act," I chuckled as the mayor announced that dinner was about to be served. Johanna asked if she could be seated next to me, I wasn't sure why and I didn't feel like objecting because she actually made me feel at home, happy and normal. It was new and exciting but strange because I had only met Johanna Mason and already I could feel something brewing in the pit of my stomach. A friendship, maybe? But that would be impossible to keep going because the only time we would ever be able to talk would be whilst we are being mentors but there is nothing to suggest we would be mentoring on the same year. A telephone friendship could work but I am not even sure if Miss Mason is up too her old tricks or if she was being friendly because she wanted too. Johanna Mason was somewhat of a rare creature, an unpredictable animal that could be quick to turn and shoot first but considering I will never find that out, not in my lifetime at least. I shall not worry about my life around her.

And after dinner, we all leave but not without saying goodbye. It turns out that Finnick and Johanna are friends. Rather close by the way they hug tenderly at the end of the night with how desperate their hug was at the beginning. She gently plants a kiss on my brother's lips before doing the same to me which I don't mind because Caesar Flickerman does the same in every interview we do. I've become rather used to strangers kissing me. And then we disappear onto the train and into the night, knowing that I will never have to face the Calevi parents again makes me feel rather relieved however knowing that I might not see Johanna Mason again makes my chest cramp. She was someone I could have a real friendship with but hey, I'm sure I will find someone stranger than her but for now, Finnick Odair and Michael will have to fill the best friend spot in my heart and I'm more than happy with that arrangement.

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><p><strong>AN:**_ All right, don't be mad but yes, Anastasia did freeze on stage. Do you think she was cowardly for not speaking about Alden or was it the right thing to do, speaking to the families of the fallen won't bring them back. Also, how do you guys feel about the relationship between Johanna and Anastasia? Do you think they could be friends or do you guys remember how Cato and Anastasia's relationship first started?;) anyway, review and make sure you favourite and follow if your enjoying, I promise more exciting chapters are coming, it's almost time for District 2._

_Review!_


	11. Chapter 11: Late Night Chats

Chapter Eleven.

**Late Night Chats With Finnick.**

There has been a change to the districts since Seven. Now when the Peacekeepers moved in to quiet the unruly crowds, they do not submit, instead they press back without a flickering thought of retreating. This wasn't the first time the districts had shown defiance themselves, the revolution that flickered to life in District 13 was solved by the total annihilation of the district and all its inhabitants. Needless to say, the broadcasts where cut and edited to avoid the rowdy crowds and the personal notes I had made to the families of my allied tributes where also removed. You could almost feel it in the air that President Snow was unhappy, it constantly rolled over me like a boiling pot of water.

This, combined with new and old nightmares, kept me awake at night. Dieter started giving me sleeping tablets but they don't work completely, I drift off only to be roused by nightmares. Michael and Finnick spend their nights taking shifts to roam the train waiting to hear me scream as I struggle to break out of the haze of the drugs that merely prolong the horrible dreams. One of them wakes me and calms me down before holding me until I fall back asleep. Then in the mornings, my prep-teams would fret over the dark circles under my eyes.

Tomorrow's stop is District 2, the district I have been heartily dreading since I won the Games because there – like the other districts – I will have to face both his and Iris' families but knowing that Cato's family to finally be hit with the reality that I am a real person, my stomach will show the truth behind everything and in some ways, I will get to tell my side of this story. Iris' family will call for my blood, considering I killed her with my own bare hands and spat venomous words at her regarding the families previously murdered child. Iris' sister who murdered mine during their games four years ago when Maria volunteered to take my place amongst the tributes.

I try sleeping for hours but the action of closing my eyes, drifting and then being awaken with a shock if irritating and far more energy draining then it is saving therefore I slip on my silk dressing gown and fur slippers before silently vacating my chamber to wonder into the dinning cart praying there was some sort of food still left out from dinner. My appetite has been all over the place since the beginning of the Victory Tour, some days I don't want anything but I eat for the sake of my unborn child and other days I just want to eat everything all the time. But today, I was having a weird one and despite being hungry, I only craved weird things like olives or bread after it's been soaked in hot chocolate.

The dinning cart was dimmed but under-lighting kept it from being pitch black. The table has been completely cleaned of all plates, cutlery and other items but also wiped clean from dinner splatters. A female Avox stands rearranging white roses on a cabinet to the back of the carriage, she is wearing a light green tunic that looks as if it's made from silk with white patterns and electric blue hair curled up into a bun, her face is tattooed with gold artwork and two gold piercings decorate her lower lip. This girl was certainly the most Capitalized Avox I have seen since my days as a tribute which makes me think she may have wanted these added features.

"Is there any food left?" I ask scanning the carriage. The Avox studies my face and my stomach before shaking her head before opening her hands out towards me and mouthing something which I don't quiet get, "Pardon?"

The Avox girl lets out a gentle sign, no doubt she probably gets this all the time but that isn't to suggest she is used to it. Then she mouths the words more carefully giving me time to catch onto what she was saying. _"Can I get you anything?" _she mouths.

"Yes please," I reply, expecting the Avox to ask me what I want and then remember that she cant, "Can I have bread and a hot chocolate?" I ask. The girl studies me for a moment, soaking in the strangeness of my request before nodding, guesting too a seat at the table before leaving.

I watch her leave through the corridor in the far right corner of the carriage marked out only for staff but I assume that behind that door leads to other compartments that contribute to the high living conditions of this train, plus the food side which makes me wonder how they manage to create such rich and beautiful food in such a tiny space they are provided with. Once she is gone and her outline has disappeared from the frosted glass, I take my seat randomly at the table but I cannot sit all the way forwards because the table is so low that I have to stay back in order to fit my stomach in so I drum my fingers lightly on my bump humming the most annoying tune I could possibly imagine to fill the time between now and the Avox returning. However between her leaving and waiting, Finnick enters the dinner carriage. His hair golden hair wild and his usually radiant face still sloppy from sleep, instead of beautiful Capitol clothing, my mentor wears a baggy blue shirt with trousers to match and a dressing gown like mine. It's almost strange to see him in such mundane clothing because even in District 4, his clothing is from the Capitol so it's designer made however I know its practical because mine is as well. My trousers stretch allowing sudden movements with shirts that are made for work. Made for a mother.

"What are you doing up?" I ask him.

He shrugs, "Starting my shifts. When you weren't in your room, I assumed you were hungry."

"Well, you were right." I reply with a chuckle.

"I know you better than you think." Finnick replies removing the head chair and taking a seat just as the Avox returns through the doors with a mug of hot chocolate and a plate of bread rolls with a butter knife and butter. She places it down in front of me and I begin to stuff my face before muffling thank you to her as Finnick declines her offer to get him food. Then he kind of watches me like I'm a rare bird.

Dunking my ripped up pieces of roll into the hot, creamy chocolate until they almost fall apart, then its a race too shove it into my waiting mouth before it actually does fall into my drink. Finnick falsely shivers and pretends to gag.

"What?" I ask.

Finnick's eyes widen, "That's disgusting!" he exclaims.

Laughing, I make the effort to chew the soggy bread in the most horrible way imaginable. "You've got no idea what you are talking about." I reply once I had finished, wiping the hot chocolate that dribbled down my chin with the back of my hand. Then I push a bread roll towards him, "Try it." I urge. He shakes his head, but I push the roll a little further towards him and Finnick pushes it back towards me. "It's really nice." I try and persuade him. Finnick raises an eyebrow at me before ripping a chunk off the roll and holding it between his fingers.

"If I do this, will you name your baby after me?" he teases.

I raise my eyebrows at him, "I'm certain the baby is a girl." I reply

"Never told you this but Finnick is a girls name."

"Nice try, but no." I say, "Just try it."

Finnick signs, "The things I do for you." he chuckles before dunking the bread in the still warm hot chocolate until its soggy then he removes it and looks at me. Drips of the chocolate liquid begin to decorate the white cloth of the dinning table but I don't say anything because it belongs to the Capitol and if they can sacrifice the lives of twenty-three child a year, I'm sure a ruined table cloth will be no problem.

"Don't be such a wimp, you're a Hunger Games victor for Christ's sake." I exclaim as he stared at the soggy brown bread like it's a snake or something with teeth. I am surprised at myself for using the games against him but I guess sooner or later I am going to have to accept that they were in fact, just games and everyone knew what was going to happen. A victor cannot keep blaming themselves for the lives they took in order to stay alive because anyone else in that arena would have done the same.

"Oh hush." Finnick snaps playfully before taking the dripping bread in his mouth, I laugh as his face screws up and I instantly know he doesn't like it but he forcefully swallows before using his teeth to scrape the junk off his tongue. "I was right, it's disgusting." he chuckles wiping his mouth on the table cloth.

I give an upside-down grin, "Maybe it's just the pregnancy." I reply continuing to eat normally.

"How is that going?" he asks me, picking off pieces of the roll and eating them without dunking.

"Fine," I reply, I don't know how to elaborate. Being pregnant is boring, I cannot do anything hugely physical, not that I would anyway but at least then I could sleep on my front but sleeping on my back forces her to sleep on my organs which hurts and is uncomfortable so it hurts. And sometimes I feel sick when I'm not ill and the raging of hormones makes me teary for no good reason and angry when I'm happy. There is no happy medium and I really cannot wait for it to be over.

"At least you have that cool pregnant lady glow." Finnick says with happiness.

I roll my eyes, "That's sweat, you throw up unexpectedly and you'll have that glow as well." I reply sternly.

Finnick has actually accepted my mood swings better than Michael or Dieter but I think that's because I spend most of my spare time with Finnick because Michael always seems busy which upsets me but I know he is with Dieter sorting out things that regard me and my safety on this tour. I suppose that's his job as an elder sibling. To take care of me because after all, we really only have each other now.

"Are you ready for tomorrow?" Finnick asks.

I let out a stifled laugh, more nervous than actual humour. "Not even remotely ready."

"Just remember to read from the cards that Dieter gives you." Finnick urges but I feel too odd about that, this is the first time I will be meeting Cato's family. A part of me wants to make a good impression but another part of me believes that I don't need too, their son loved me for who I am and frankly they should be accepting of me. I am carrying another member of their family inside of me plus I preformed well in the games, considering District 2 send their children to an academy to train before telling them to volunteer, a good tribute should be liked even if they aren't from the same district.

"I want to make a good impression." I reply.

Finnick laughs, "They probably won't anyway. I'm sorry to remind you of this Anastasia but you are partly, if not all the reason why Cato isn't alive today. On that Cornucopia, if it wasn't you, he wouldn't of hesitated to snap the neck of that tribute however, lucky for you. It was." he replies firmly but truthfully. "Plus, you were responsible for Iris' death which wasn't exactly smooth."

"Well thanks for that, I feel much better now." I say sarcastically, but I suppose Finnick was right. Cato no doubt would have killed any tribute that stood on the roof of the Cornucopia, if it wasn't me but it was. I hadn't killed Iris quickly, I made her suffer and gave the audience a good show which I was proud of and like then in the Games, guilt isn't something I feel about her death or my actions. The little shit deserved it.

"Don't worry about it." Finnick replied as if he had actually accepted my thank you. "When your up on stage, in the moment, you will know how you feel and what you should say. Don't worry about it until then, you'll just upset yourself but you cannot keep blaming yourself for your actions in the Games because, well, they were just games. Everyone did what they needed to survive, that's what made you a victor. Nothing else." he says firmly.

I nod, "I guess you're right." I finish off my bread rolls before drinking the cold hot chocolate from the mug.

"I am always right, Miss Hollern," Finnick teases light-heartedly with a chuckle, "It's late, you should be off to bed because we all have a busy day tomorrow." he says. In agreement, I hum a yes before standing up from my cushioned seat, leaving my dirty but empty cup and plate on the table for the Avox to clean up.

"I'll see you in the morning." I tell him before exiting the carriage.

My chambers were dimly lit but that didn't matter because I swiftly removed my dressing gown and kicked off my slippers randomly into the dark before climbing into the plush Capitol bed pulling the silk covers over my body then pinning it either side of my body with my arms. I could feel the weight of her body press down on my internal organs and make my spine ache but tonight I didn't mind. When she stretched, her hands pressed against the inner skin portraying her hand print on the outer surface, it makes me shiver because it's so weird and reminds me off something from a horror book but it just reminds me that she is real.

Deep breaths and gentle strokes on my stomach keep my pulse steady and my eyes closed but the fear of falling into the dark to be ripped by nightmares seemed to risky however I am exhausted. The entire idea that the districts were pushing back, fighting against the authority scared me because the entire movement could be held to me. Everything my fault. I continue to wear the Mockingjay pin but I do not hear the whistle but I see the salute from a few extra brave members of the audience but they are taken away by the Peacekeepers on duty. And I don't see them after and I may never hear from them again.

Soon I begin to drift, and light sleep engulfs me hungrily so with my unborn child kicking against my hand, informing me she is perfectly fine. I accept the little rest I was going to get that night and drift off into the blackness until the nightmares awake me later that very same night.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** _Oh, it's close now, next chapter is District 2, the one place Anastasia has been dreading to go since she won the Games because she will have to face the family of her lost love. How do you think it will go? Smoothly or rocky? How will the district react to her presence? Make sure you review! _

_*I HAVE EDITED CHAPTER SIX, SO IT WOULD BE GREAT IF YOU ALL COULD REREAD THAT IF YOU HAVE ALREADY READ IT, OBVIOUSLY IF THIS IS YOUR FIRST TIME READING THEN YOU HAVE READ THE REWRITE SO DON'T WORRY.* _


	12. Chapter 12: District 2 Becomes Chaotic

Chapter Twelve.

**Fallen Tributes of District 2; Iris Castillo and Cato Ludwig.**

Sharp cramps snatch my body from my stomach inwards. Heavily breathing and hobbling gets me to the bathroom where nausea snatches a hold of me but I am not sick. Staring in the mirror at the image that greets me is a little more than shocking because my skin is pale and my eyes sunk into their sockets. Compared to previous nights during this tour, last night was one of the best sleeps I have ever had, awaking only twice to Michael standing over my clutching my shoulders telling my everything was going to be okay. Today my stomach told me anyway, my cramps continued on until the early morning until my prep-team found me and questioned my state, of course I pretended to by fine because I wanted to be, but the cramps pushed my stomach together making bile rise to my mouth making the saliva sour but never actually cramping enough for me to be physically sick, also the cramps aren't majorly painful. The cramps are similar to labour cramps and so that's the first thing my prep-team jumps too, dancing around the train like morons from a nursery rhyme only to be shot-down by me telling them it's something called Braxton Hicks contractions, I remember reading about them in a maternity book Annie had got me. As a pregnant Hunger Games victor living off the money from the Capitol and being too afraid to go outside, reading is really all I have to do inside the house.

My prep-team are very disappointed but continue work as normal that day, working extra hard to make up for the time they had lost being dancing fairies lost in their own imagination. My hair is pinned back using several clips decorated with false crystals and my make up is simply, a lot of filling to make me appear less ghost-like and then highlighting on top before a little lipstick and false eyelashes. It is both obvious and in no way bias to say that my public appearance outfit for District 2 is far more flasher than any of the districts before with tight pants that highlight the curves I have managed to gain back with a strip of silver running along the outside seam with a white glistening top made of white, brown and black sequences and a white, half-sleeve blazer. The shoes Vibia has designed for me have an incredibly thin heel and are black with black sequences on the toes. And then to complete the look, my golden Mockingjay pin was placed on the lapel of the blazer. Despite not being the district for luxury, everything had sequences in this outfit and I was secretly dreading what the outfit for the evening wear looked like if today's public appearance outfit was anything to go by.

Soon, the train pulls up in the station of District 2. We are placed into an armoured car and driven to the back of the districts Justice Building where we are escorted into the large marble halls to meet the mayor but also the victors because we actually have time to spare and apparently the previous victors of this district wished to meet me before the dinner tonight. I guess that's understandable, push passed the awkward greets before we are focused to sit and have a meal together like old friends. The previous victors of this district petrify me before I have even met them because they have all been careers, the move feared tributes of their Hunger Games and now I am going to meet them face-to-face without Capitol Peacekeepers to break up what could happen, not that a fight between me and a career would last long, they are careers, they could probably kill me with a spoon at dinner. In fairness, that is a neat trick.

The mayor is a man in his late-forties with light skinned man, light blue eyes and jet black hair. It's odd seeing someone with dark hair and really light eyes but he seems nice enough, he shakes my hand and we both battle for dominance of that meeting gesture, I squeeze his hand tightly and he pinches back without a flicker in his eyes. Then he introduces the victors of this district, there are several: six boys and four girls but my eyes are automatically drawn to three, a male tribute named Brutus who in one word was terrifying, despite being well into his forties, he was built like a machine with arms bigger than my body and a chest like a drum. The second tribute that caught my eye was a younger woman named Calla who was incredibly striking with razor sharp features but she was incredibly well created like Brutus with muscular arms and strong legs, unfortunately they were all covered by beautiful garments. And the last tribute to grip my attention was Enobaria who was dark skinned and haired but this was mainly because of her pointed teeth which she had surgically altered after her games because she was known to rip other tributes throats out.

"Wow, so it is true." Enobaria says pointing to my stomach. The three tributes stood around her chuckles but almost like they didn't believe it either but I suppose seeing me in public was the reality check they all needed.

"Are you sure it's his?" Calla asks.

I raise my eyebrows at them all with a half-hearted smile, "I'm pretty sure, remember Enobaria, you were there." I reply sharply, a part of my was incredibly angry at their accusations but me challenging about the father of my child. Enobaria's face sharpens but thankfully the other victors chuckle and some pat me which is nice to know that they aren't all wanting to kill me.

"Watch yourself, Princess." Enobaria whispers and suddenly, she is Iris Castillo. The memory of the first thing she said to me on the first time we met after the Tribute Parade. Sickness climbs up my throat and I begin to panic silently. Finding Finnick amongst the other victors who shake my hand and smile at me, I manage to pull him away and escort me off to calm me down. Michael eventually joins us and informs me that the cars have now arrived outside the front of the Justice Building, ready for the tour.

Incredibly stylish black vehicles are parked out the front when we emerge to be greeted by several of the crowd members but most line the streets. Camera's gobble up my image as most of the nation will be waiting on tender hooks as they wait for me to react to my child's fathers district but more importantly, they want to see the families reaction to me. To add more pressure, I know that President Snow will be personally watching me today, knowing that the live of so many people hang in the balance on the results of this very day. The next several hours are critical to make a good impression and show off how much I was in love with Cato. _Am, _I correct inside my mind, personally I now base my feelings that I was in love with Cato, of course if he was still alive it would be different. I am in love with him but the thought of him not being here to love is almost unbearable, like the other twenty-three tributes in my games, he is gone. Dead. Just like Cassandra, Alden, Waylon and Garrett, those people I came to care for in our time in the arena, are all gone. Buried beneath the dirt of their district and laid to rest with no many other children who have met similar fates. Cato Ludwig is gone and there is no bring him back. I was in love with him.

The tour of District 2 really shocked me as the buildings where all beautifully made from amazing stone and marble work. The best hospital, schools and library. Not to mention the seer size and impact of the Training Academy that children enrol in when they start school, around nine or ten they begin training and they continue throughout their years until eighteen where they are expected to volunteer – if they wish – that is the only explanation to why Cato was involved in the Eight-fourth Hunger Games, it was his last year and he volunteered to get in on the action. The boy he volunteered for was a complete stranger.

The crowd has engulfed the front of the Justice Building when we return and my prep-team are given three minutes to readjust anything and Michael or Finnick are given two minutes so they can go over anything I need for the public appearance, Michael is still unaware so when he leaves, Finnick shoots me a quick glance before mumbling, "Speak the truth, you don't need to convince." And then Dieter rushes in to inform me that the mayor is now addressing the crowd and that I will be called on in several minutes.

When I am, my face cracks into a large but secretly unhappy smile as the light overcrowding this district swallows me but the air has a nip to it meaning that it could be closer to District 4 and 12 than I originally thought. The crowd cheers and some call my name in true Career District fashion. Two platforms have been set up for the families of the fallen tributes. Iris Castillo's family on the left and Cato Ludwig's family on the right. I refuse to make eye contact with them yet and so I just smile at the crowd who applaud until told to settle down by the Head Peacekeeper but even then some threaten and over rule his orders and continue to clap however soon they quiet down into silence. The cards shake in my hands because of the wind but I am calm. Calmer than I was in the other districts but I think that's because it wasn't like standing in front of the families whose children I had murdered wasn't familiar. I had done that two times already, technically three adding now standing before Iris Castillo's family – and I suppose you could at District 8 to that mix because despite not killing their female tribute, I did break her wrist in the opening minutes during the bloodbath grappling for a survival pack – but I think not feeling guilty about Iris' death helped add to the calmness, knowing how truly evil she was and how bitchy and gloaty she was during training simply helped to hate her more.

I say thank you to the crowd before starting to read the piece on Iris because I couldn't come up with anything at home that didn't involve me getting incredibly angry, that is when I first look at Mrs and Mr Castillo face-to-face because I have seen them before, back in the cave in the arena after the tribute feast. After I killed Iris, I stole her pack from the Cornucopia and it revealed to hold not only life saving food but also a necklace, locket thing. Being nosey, I opened it and saw it held a photo of her family, herself, her sister and their parents. Both children are now deceased. Those parent's are now childish however unlike Mr and Mrs Calevi, I don't feel sorry for them because their children where evil, blood-lusting demons who loved nothing more than to watch lesser people scream. Mrs Castillo is crying, which is no surprise, all the mothers have cried but the fathers some how manage to keep the tears locked deep but they show no way of hiding the anger that plasters their faces as they burn holes into my face. Above them, Iris' smug smiling face is plastered on the pixelated screen staring right at me, I wanted to scream at her and tell her to stop looking at me, convinced she was real.

"Iris was a great warrior who took the entertainment side of the games as her own personal job. It's very safe to say that I wasn't close with Iris, we had our problems during the three day training sessions but of course it never elevated into anything physical –" _lie _"– but we both knew once the gong released us into the games, tensions where high and, well, she met her end during the feast claiming fourth place in this years games. An honourable placement." I say, my voice was confident and the lies I told didn't overly bother me because I didn't like Iris, fourth place wasn't an honourable rank for a Career Tribute, third or second is but fourth doesn't even slip their name into the top three. Forgotten from that section. Mrs Castillo must have registered the lies because she sobs harder and her husband tenses around her. Then I notice she is playing with something in her left hand which is laced around her throat. A flash of silver tells me it's the locket posted to her in the Games during the feast, a little more motivation, same it came too late. "I'm glad you got the locket back, when I slipped it into Cato's pocket I wasn't sure if the Capitol would return it too you." I add on the end before turning to the family I have been dreading setting eyes upon since the announcement of my pregnancy.

What remained of the Ludwig family stood tall but clustered together like a small collection of birds. There was a total of one woman and three men stood on the platform. The eldest man of the group appeared to be what I assume would have been Cato's grandfather, judging by his pale wrinkled skin and grey hair. The middle-aged man and woman must have been his parents because the man has outstanding features that compare to his now deceased son. And then that left the small boy, no older than nine guessing by his striking blonde hair and glistening eyes without a mark on his skin like fresh leather. He was so young. My eyes scan everyone of them and as my heart skips several beats, my child inside of my stomach kicks me. I rub my shirt gently trying to get her to settle but she has decided now was a good time to think I had forgotten she existed and assumed the only way in which to remind me was to kick the living shit out of me. I pause, rubbing her a little more bristly in an attempt to calm her but no luck came. It was almost as if she could see what I was seeing, her extended family. Her grandparents, uncle and great-grandfather – its strange to think about them like that because in all honesty, they'll never be able to act like that around her, they will never know her because we live in separate districts, President Snow would never allow it. If we are still living between now and then.

I must have been dazing for a little whilst because a few mumbles from the crowd asked if I am okay; I simply nod before replying, "Just a bit active." and then I jab a thumb in the direction of my stomach. The crowd laughs a little and some just smile but I am not watching their reactions, I watch the reactions given from the Ludwig family. The mother just smiles at me but from this distance I couldn't figure out what her eyes told me. The little boy – Cato's younger brother – remains stone faced but I guess he has started his first year of training in the District 2 Academy, and I can only guess that the first lesson they learn it, _'don't trust anyone'_ or _'we are all the enemy'_. The middle-aged man – Cato's father – actually looks relieved but again I couldn't decide on whether that was because of the babies movement or that it was all actually true.

"I just wanted to let you know that we never planned this. Cato and I. That would have been incredibly stupid if we had." I say gentle with a little chuckle because it all seems so unreal at this moment but the family of my first love just stare at me, waiting for more. "But Cato was the star-crossed love of my life, I will not be going into depth about our love story because like all real love stories, it will die with us. As it should. I actually had hoped he would be the one up here on the stage in District 4 speaking about me because there is no one else I'd rather have but that isn't the way everything turned out and for that, I'm sorry." I tell them, touching my stomach as I look up too meet the eyes of Cato's moving picture on the screen, his bright eyes and messy short blonde hair perfectly matching my memories of him. The Cato I loved and knew. His mother's face frowns at the moment I said I wasn't going in depth, she wanted the details, I knew that but I wasn't going to share the intimate details, those belong to me. Only me. "I first met Cato after the Tribute Parade but it was before then I realised I felt something for him. After that we continued to meet in secret, away from the watchful eyes of the Capitol. I fell in love with your son, when he wasn't with Iris or the tributes from District 1, he was sweet and kind – everything he was trained not to be, he was with me." I breath deeply, attempting to deal with the painful kicks that erupt from inside my stomach. "One thing lead to another, obviously but want I really want you all to know is that what you saw in the last moments in the Games between Cato and me was no stunt, it was all real. Both myself and him were perfectly ready to die so the other could go home."

Sobs echo from Mrs Ludwig, but I watch with a comforting feeling as her husband drapes an arm around her pulling their son into the huddle with grandpa rested off to the side. His mouth is curled up into a grin.

"And I loved him. I still would if he was alive but in so many ways, the realisation that he is gone hasn't hit me yet but when the time comes for me to meet our child, I know then I will be able to cope with his loss. This baby will be the new love of my life and I intend to keep him, or her, save until my dying breath." I say. The family grin and nod their heads, expect Cato's younger brother, but I know then I have done a good enough job to satisfy them. But there is a long pause before something unexpected happens, from somewhere in the crowd, someone whistles the four-note mockingjay tune. The one that meant safety in the arena between me and my allies. By the end of the tune, I have located the whistler who stands on the platform with the Ludwig family.

It was the grandfather. Oh God, no. What will President Snow think of this very public whistle, again. It's bad enough the entire population of District 12 saluting me but now it's spread to District 2, one of the very favourite and loyal districts which make up Panem. The entire idea of me having a Victory Tour was to diffuse any hints of a rebellion/uprising. This isn't want it's suppose to happen! They could cheer or clap, anything but don't do this! Knowing that President Snow is watching makes me feel composure from screaming at them to stop but I can hear the slight burst of static indicating my microphone has been cut off and the mayor attempts to take over but the Peacekeeper, now all wielding thin batons match through the crowd before snatching the man from the platform.

My feet move before I can registered the movement myself and before I am even subconsciously aware of it all, I'm physically attempting to push my way passed the Peacekeepers that block by way. The crowd behind attempt to help me but are unsuccessful. The two guards before me link their arms through mine and forcefully use their body weight to haul me back away from the crowd and up the steps of the Justice Building. I am not able to reason with my Peacekeeper escorts, I cannot even see their faces as they all wear stream-line helmets with reflective shades in the front so I can only see my own face. As I'm pushed back, the grandfather is brought forwards.

"No! No! Leave him alone!" I screech over the noise of the crowd, begging for the family of Cato's to hear me, for the Peacekeeper's to follow my orders or the Head Peacekeeper to call off his movement but everything continues on in the same overly aggressive manor.

They bring the old man who whistled to the top of the steps, I am shoved into the arms of my brother but the people in charge of the closing the door to ensure our safety is too slow and as the gap between the two doors reducing, I watch a pair of Peacekeeper's force Cato's grandfather to his knees at the top of the Justice Building in full view of the crowd. And putting a bullet through his head.

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><p><strong>AN:** _I'm sorry, but yes this chapter did happen. I know the whole district into chaos is part of the book but I wanted to add in the fact that one of the Career Districts is fighting back. They agree with Anastasia and respect her on some level. However do tell me how you feel about this chapter and if you enjoy it or not._


	13. Chapter 13: Coming Clean

Chapter Thirteen.

**Coming Clean.**

Cato's grandfather crumples into the ground, dead, my doing. Bile climbs my throat but I swallow it back as I lunge forwards filled with unexpected energy towards the doors reaching out for the handles to open the front doors of the Justice Building but a firm yet gentle hands clasp my body and yank me back away from the entrance. I shake off the grip until I realise that the hands holding me belongs to Finnick. Several soldiers with automatic weapons take a post of guarding the inside of the doors, poking them at us hoping to move us away from the doors, keeping us from all the commotion outside.

"We're moving!" Finnick snaps angrily, shoving the Peacekeeper who prodded me. "We get it, all right?"

Dieter, Vibia and Finnick wait under a static-filled screen that's mounted on the wall to the far side of the foyer, their faces are tight with anxiety.

"What happened?!" Dieter exclaims hurrying over, "We lost the feed just after your wonderful speech, and then Michael said he thought he heard a gun fire and I said it was ridiculous but who knows? There are lunatics everywhere!" he blabs despite my eyes being trained on the floor, I can feel Dieter take a long look at me, "Anastasia, are you all right? You look awfully pale." my ex-escort asks, two more shots fire. I flinch each time because the doors do not muffle their sound much. Who were those shots for? Cato's mother? His little brother?

"You and you! With me." Finnick orders. Michael and I follow him, leaving the others behind. The Peacekeeper's who are stationed around the Justice Building take very little interest in our movements now that we are safely inside. We climb a magnificent curved marble staircase, at the top there is a long, smart regularly cleaned carpet on the floor highlighting the corridor. We open the first double doors to the right, the room is longer than many I have been put in with plush sofa's and chairs and brilliant carvings in the marble walls. Everything was incredibly well made and perfect. My evening outfit hang on a rack against the far wall beside the window with my shoes on the coffee table and boxes, no doubt containing make-up and hair accessories, sit on the desk at the far end of the room. This room has been prepared for my use but we're barely there long enough for me to place my flowers on the chair before Finnick yanks the microphone from my chest, stuffs them beneath a sofa cushion and waves us on.

"Find us somewhere quiet." Finnick orders Michael who takes the lead. As far as I know, both my mentors have been here before but only once. However using their combined brain power, they manage to navigate through twisting staircases and hallways only stopping once or twice to push a door that happens to be locked, then suddenly we find ourselves in a room that looks long abandoned with scattered pieces of furniture and biles of book with a thin layer of dust covering every object inside this room.

"What happened out there?!" Michael demands, relating to all that had occurred in the square. The whistle and the salute. Of course he doesn't know about the shooting of the old man but he suspected the gun shots so I see no reason to keep that hidden from him any longer, therefore I tell him. Michael's face plasters with confusion before he demands, "What is going on here, Finnick?" he asks, his voice is incredibly firm.

"It'll be better coming from you." Finnick says to me.

I shake my head because I don't agree. I think it will be a hundred times worse coming from me because it'll feel like a betrayal. That me and Finnick are keeping secrets from him, I guess that would reflect the fact that we are. But, nevertheless, I tell Michael everything as calmly as possible. I tell him about the real reason behind President Snow's visit, the unrest in the districts and I also make a special effort to lay out how we are all in jeopardy, how the whole country is in jeopardy because of my refusal to the Gamemakers. "I was suppose to fix things on this tour. Make everyone who doubted mine and Cato's love. Calm things down but throughout the tour people have been defying my idea of calmness. And today I got, not only three people killed but one of them was the dead father to my unborn child's grandfather!" I say, my words get slightly louder towards the end of my sentence because I feel so sick that I have to sit down on a piece of dusty furniture.

"Oh, my God. Then I made it worse as well by telling you too tell the truth." Michael mumbles, then suddenly he strikes a vase which stands empty on top of a crate to his left, sending the object flying across the room where it shatters against the wall sending splinters across the bare floor. "This has to stop, right now! This – this – little games you two play, where you only tell each other secrets like teenage girls bitching and keeping them from me like I am not good enough or too weak to handle them." he hisses.

"It wasn't like that Michael –" I begin.

"It's exactly like that!" he yells at me. "What just because I am your only family that doesn't mean I don't have people I care about as well, Anastasia. Friends back in District 4 who will be just as dead as yours if you didn't pull this off during the tour."

"I was trying to protect you!" I hiss back.

Michael laughs sadistically, "It's not your job to protect me, I'm your elder brother, I should be protecting you!"

"We protect each other!" I hiss angrily.

Finnick growls at us both, "Who protects them?!" he bellows gesturing to the window that overlooked District 2, "Who protects them from President Snow? From the Peacekeeper's? Who is protecting them from all forms of harm?" Finnick asks us questions that shock me and Michael into silence because we know there isn't anyone to protect these people. They are left exposed like an open wound, no way of healing if the same sickening events continue on. The reapings, the gradings and then the main event. The infection starts when their children are killed, the death slowly starts to skin in once the victor is crowned and then is isn't worth fighting anymore then the Victory Tour started. These people weren't protected from anything.

"From now on, I want to be kept in the loop, no more secrets!" Michael demands.

Both Finnick and I nod, "You'll be fully informed about everything," I promise.

"Good." he says bluntly, "Now, don't we have a dinner to attend?" says Michael before storming passed Finnick and I to reach the door before walking down the corridor, mindlessly finding his way back to my prep-team. _How on earth did I manage to cause so much trouble? _I silently ask myself as I follow behind me, half walking and half jogging as Finnick doesn't bother waiting for me either.

Back inside the room assigned for me, I stand beneath the shower as long as Shazza and Coren will allow me before I have to come out to be pulled about. My prep-team, in no way to my surprise, are completely oblivious to the events of the day. They are all far more excited about this dinner, I think that is because we are in District 2, one of the the wealthiest district in Panem however whilst they predict what dishes will be served, I keep seeing my unborn child's great-grandfathers head being blown off. I don't even pay attention to what anything has been doing to me until I am about to leave and I see myself in the mirror. A off-the-shoulder pale cream dress that falls to my ankles with white pumps covering my feet. My hair is pinned back away from my face allowing the edges to curl but being hair-sprayed to keep in place.

Vibia comes up behind me and arranges the shimmering Mockingjay pin onto my outfit. She catches my eye in the mirror and gives ma a vacant smile. "What do you think?" she asks,

"It's beautiful. Like always." I tell her.

She smiles, secretly she knows everything that happened, what really happened about the shooting of Cato's grandfather. How does she know? I told her, that's one of the downsides to being caught sobbing your heart out in the bathroom. She asked and I told, needing to get it out. "Let's see how it looks with a smile." Vibia says gently. Its her reminder that in a minute there will be cameras again. I manage to raise the corners of my lips. Only slightly. "Much better."

Then we all assemble to go down for dinner, I can feel that Dieter is out of sorts. Surely, neither Michael or Finnick has told him about what happened in the square. However now Vibia knows, it seems there is an unspoken agreement between us all to leave Dieter, Shazza and Coren out of the bad-new loop. But I can tell he is aching for release about something he has been venting up and after he has finished running through the schedule for tonight, he explodes in a manor I have never seen Dieter. It's almost nice to experience, it's difficult to keep a grin from my face.

"Is something wrong, Dieter?" asks Vibia.

"This is so uncivilised! We have been treated like criminals ever since this tour started. Being greeted by Peacekeeper's at every stop and shoved into armoured cars and barred from stage. And then, you'll never believe this, but an hour ago, I decided to have a peek around because I was interested" – _being nosey_, I correct inside my head – "And this most God-awful human poked me with her gun!" he exclaims. I can't help but think this was because me, Michael and Finnick disappeared earlier. Dieter looks so upset about the event that I spontaneously rub his shoulder tenderly.

"That's awful, Dieter. Maybe we shouldn't go to this dinner. At least not until they have apologised." I suggest this, knowing he will never agree to this but he brightens up considerably at this suggestion. To be fair, I wasn't pregnant and the same events had occurred, I would have thrown myself down the stairs to avoid facing everyone.

Dieter waves me away, "No, no. I will manage just fine. It's a part of my job to weather the ups and downs. And we cannot let you miss your dinner because of me." he says, "But thank you for the offer, Anastasia."

"She was probably just jealous of your perfect eyebrows." Michael chuckles and everyone joins in putting my little act to shame but I don't mind. Dieter arranges us in formation for our entrance which is exactly the same for the districts previous. First my prep-team, then Dieter, Vibia, Michael and Finnick before I bring up the rear. Somewhere in the hall musicians begin to play music, I enter blah blah. I mingle with people who wanted me dead in the arena however now the room was cramped with tension. The shooting was something no one expected and many – just like me – where still trying to absorb what happened but as far as everyone in this room is concerned, I am the reason that man is dead now. That is another tally to my name of innocent lives I have been responsible for taking.

As soon as dinner is over, we leave. Brief goodbye's are made between people however the only people I find myself saying goodbye to is the mayor of District 2 and Enobaria, who shakes my hand forcefully listening for a satisfying whimper of pain which I don't grant her. Then like on the journey to the Justice Building, we are stuffed into a armoured car and taken to the train where we move automatically.

That night, Michael is still mad at me and Finnick for not telling him about the President Snow's threats so he doesn't bother keeping an ear out for my screams therefore it's up to Finnick to make sure I don't wake every sleeping person on this train with my blood-curdling screams and shouts. He cradles me in the same manor he had before, like I was a child. I rested my head above the section of his heart, listening to the gentle and rhythmic beats, listening for any hiccups linking in with his words. Some of his heart beats accelerated when certain words where mentioned but most of the time, he was even beating. If there was anyone I could trust in this nation, I knew I could trust him.

**xxx**

I am completely vacant during the District 1 appearance. Alden was responsible for the death of their female tribute whereas I came up with the idea which lead to the death of their male tribute whose name I learn was Victor. How did I never know that? I was so careful to make a note on who-is-who during training however I suppose that during the sessions I never paid attention to District 1's tributes and afterwards, I didn't want to know anymore.

Throughout the entire public appearance, I don't look at Victor's family because I knew they blamed me for his death, I am understanding to why they would think it was my fault but it was the big-headness of their son/grandson which got him killed. The idea that another tribute would be so stupid as to camp that close to a Career Pack seemed dodgy in itself and when myself and my fellow tribute reveal themselves to be the owner of the parachute .They assumed that eating the content of my parachute would be a good show for the audience and absolutely horrible for me, the main reason this was so brilliant was because we had actually used a parachute from a previous drop off and just re-filled the pot with Nightlock, a poisonousness berry which kills incredibly quickly.

Obviously he died and after that the others had figured it out, the female tribute, Cherish lunged for us and Alden threw his axe into her chest. _Bang, bang_, both tributes from District 1 killed in the same night, however that was the night Jacqueline was forced to kill Alden.

I met the previous victors from District 1 but never paid attention to their names or appearances. I didn't want to know them, really, in what possible way was this going to help me deal with being a victor. It wasn't at all.

Dinner was served and was annoyingly delicious – well, what little of what I had was great – and then we loaded onto the train. The Capitol was our next stop, the moment of truth, had I managed to convince President Snow of the one thing I was sure about or is my entire life about to crumple like Cato's grandfather had to the pavement. Had I managed to do this? Or had I failed everybody?

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><p><strong>AN:** _Here's chapter 13, please tell me what you think. How do you feel about the uprising in District 2? And also make sure you follow or favourite this story if you are enjoying it._


	14. Chapter 14: The Capitol

Chapter Fourteen.

**Presidental Palace.**

In the Capitol, we are greeted by endless adoring crowds. All cheering with pure happiness and love. There is no danger of an uprising here among the privileged, among those whose names are never placed in the reaping bowls, whose children never die for the supposed crimes committed generations ago. I don't need to convince anyone of my love for Cato here because they all believe it but to hold the slim hope that I can still reach some of those we failed to convince in the districts. But whatever I do feels a little, too late.

****xxx****

"Welcome to the presidential palace!" Dieter piratically screeches at me as we enter through the gates at the bottom of the garden. He is dressed in a fiery red suit made from tiny lights matching his blood red hair, Dieters face is powdered flawless with golden eye-shadow and red lips to complete his look for this evenings events. Michael wears a dashing tight black top and trousers that highlight every details of his muscles with a deep green blazer that is designed to have the back of the collar raises permanently. The blazer comes together just below his naval before draping down to the back of his knees. Finnick wears a similar outfit style but with white tops and trousers and a deep blue blazer. They are practically twins. Vibia wears something stunning, a tight leather green dress that continues on passed her feet hiding a pair of heels I'm not even sure I want to know how high they are, her long hair has been curled into such dramatic ringlets her hair over all is huge with dramatic make-up to keep up with the entire aura of her outfit tonight.

Tonight, my outfit is almost so stunning I almost refuse to wear it. Vibia was truly outdone herself on this one, it's better than my interview outfit from my crowning. Despite having straps, the back from open and the front was glistening in different size and coloured diamonds with a long cream coloured bottom that covers my feet hiding the fact I am wearing flats. It is the first time I don't wear my mockingjay pin since I got it, I felt it would be safer this way. My hair is straightened and plated beautifully to be held in place with pins. My make-up with more noticeably for this event, I wear a darker cream eye-shadow with pink blush to give me colour and dark lip stick. My trinket from Cato and Dieter aren't removed for this and so they make up my jewellery for tonight.

"There will be interviews and meetings but just remember, everyone is here to meet you. My victor." Dieter gushes proudly, Finnick whispers something to Michael that I don't quite grasp but I cannot help but follow with my brothers laughter. Our group passes by two water fountains which are lit up like the sun on either side of the stone walkway which becomes a pair of stairs. At the top are two male Avox's holding trays of glasses filled with beverages. Michael and Finnick take one without hesitation, I do not. Once we have walked up the steps and the mansion has come back into view, a blast from the past hits me, the party wasn't nearly as amazing at it was when I was crowned victor a little over six months ago. Dieter stops dead without warning so I almost walk into him if it wasn't for a hand on my shoulder stopping me, I smile at the male Avox who had warned me before turning back to listen to Dieter, "Breath it all in child. This is all for you, Anastasia." he whispers like its a bloody secret.

I raise my eyebrows, "It's cosy." I say sarcastically.

Dieter's face hardens as he waves a hand in my direction, "Att – itu – de." he spells out slowly. I roll my eyes as he turns back to face the Presidential Palace. "Come, come." he urges before stepping forwards and I follow with the rest of my team behind me. Soon, I am engulfed in a waiting crowd, all calling my name and cheering. They are all so odd looking I almost feel terrified and incredibly claustrophobic as groping hands reach out to touch me. A strange sense of knowing that if I wasn't pregnant, I would have been sold to these sick fucks for their own pleasure, having to willingly give myself up for these twits. I look around, trying to find something else to look at other than these people, I notice fire-breathers and acrobatics who perform in the most tiniest of spaces. It was those people that got be through to inside the Palace before I punched someone for getting in my personal space. Michael and Finnick followed protectively.

This party has no equal. Every room was open but the banquet room snatched all breath I had. The twelve-meter ceiling has been transformed into the night sky, and the starts looked exactly the way they do at home. In fact, they actually looked the same why as the night before the Games. About halfway between the floor and the ceiling, the musicians float on what look like fluffy white clouds, but I can't see what holds them aloft. Traditional dining tables have been replaced by innumerable stuffed sofas and chairs, some surrounding fireplaces and others beside fragrant flower gardens or ponds filled with exotic fish, so that people can eat and drink and do whatever they please in the utmost comfort. In another room there is a large tiled area in the center of the room that served as everything from a dance floor to a stage for the performers who come and go, to another spot to mingle with the flamboyantly dressed guests.

However, despite that, the real star of the evening is the food. Tables laden with delicacies line the walls. Everything you can think of and thing you have never dreamed of, lie in wait. Whole roasted cows, pigs and goats still turning on spits. Huge platters of fowl stuffed with savour fruits and nuts. Ocean creatures drizzled in sauces or begging to be dipped in spicy concoctions. Countless cheeses, breads, vegetables, sweets, waterfalls of wine and steams of spirits that flicker with flames. With the mixture of smells engulfing me in a passionate hug, my appetite has returned with my desire to fight back. After weeks of feeling too worried to eat, I am famished.

"I want to taste everything in this room." I chuckle to Michael who happily stuffs his face. I can see him trying to read my expressions, to figure out my transformation. Since he doesn't know if President Snow has desired on our verdict, he can only assume that I think we have succeeded.

"You better pace yourself." my brother chuckles in return.

"All right, how about no more than one bite of each dish." I say. My resolve is almost immediately broken at the first table which has twenty or so soups and broths when I discover a clear green broth which I can only describe tastes of Christmas, I know I could spend the entire night just eating this one dish, but I don't. I move along to try a strange looking frothy pink soup dotted with strawberries.

Endless faces appear, names are exchanged, pictures taken and kisses brushed on cheeks. Apparently the mockingjay pin Peeta gave me has spawned a new fashion sensation because several guests have come up to me simply to show of their accessories. My bird has been replicated on belt buckles and medallions embroidered into silk lapels and even tattooed in intimate areas. Everyone wants to wear the winners token, I can only imagine how nuts that makes President Snow. But what can he do really? The Games were such a hit here, where the whistle and salute was only a symbol of a girl saying goodbye to her friends.

With Michael hovering beside me like a protective mother all the time, we are the only ones that miss the party but we are never short of company. I act delighted but I have zero interest in these Capitol people. In fact they are just a distraction from the food. Every table presents new temptations and even on my restricted one-taste-per-dish plan, I am filling up quickly. I pick up a small roasted bird, bite into it and my mouth is flooded with mint gravy. Delicious. But I made Michael eat the remainder because I want to keep tasting things and the idea of throwing food away – as I see so many people doing so casually – makes me feel ill, especially after witnessing District 12, all those starving kids would live for weeks on the food these people are just discarding without a second thought.

Just as I am knee-deep in thought, Dieter rushes over, his arm linked with another man who looks vaguely familiar but to be far, all these Capitol men look familiar. "This is Plutarch Heavensbee, the new Head Gamemakers, successor to Seneca Crane." Dieter introduces him with honour.

I smile warmly, "That's a tough act to follow." I reply sarcastically, considering that Seneca Crane is now dead.

"_Anastasia_!" Dieter hisses my voice like my mother would, earning him a scowl from me. Plutarch laughs and I can tell my the wrinkles gathering around his eyes that the chuckles the round man produces are real and he hasn't take anything I have said to heart.

"Would you like to dance?" Plutarch asks me kindly, I accept because the camera's are on us now. He guides me to the dance floor before we begin to dance. I don't want to dance with Plutarch Heavensbee, I don't want to feel his hands on me, one resting on my hip and the other against my hand. I'm not used to being touched, except my by family or Cato and I rank Gamemakers somewhere below maggots in terms of creatures I want in contact with my body. However Mr Heavensbee seems to sense this because he holds me almost at an arm's length away as we turn on the floor. We chit-chat about the party, the entertainment and about the food before the camera's disappeared leaving us to our own.

What he when he pipes up and asks me. "How do you really like the party?"

"I hate it." I reply in my usual blunt tone of voice.

I expect him to defend this event but instead he raises an eyebrow at me with a half grin, "It's actually appalling, however if you abandon your moral judgement, it can be kind of fun." he replies.

"So, are you having fun?" I ask.

He shrugs, "I'm the Head Gamemaker, fun is my job."

_Tell that to the children who have lost their lives in Games you helped create, bet it wasn't fun for them. _I snap in my head, but my face portrays a different emotion, I grin a little whilst giving a half-shrug, half-head nod. "I guess so, but isn't that what happened to Seneca Crane? Too much fun?" I ask, understanding I may be bringing up a touchy subject.

"Seneca decided to, quit breathing." Plutarch says.

An awkward chuckle escapes me, "Decided?"

Plutarch Heavensbee nods, "Yes, it was either that or drowning. Believe it or not being Head Gamemaker isn't the most secure job in the world and between you and me, there weren't many takers for the job. So much responsibility as it turns out." he tells me.

"Have you started planning for the next Hunger Games?" I ask him, generally curious.

He nods, "Oh, yes. Well, it have been in work for years. Arena's aren't built in a day. But the, shall we say, flavour of the Games is being determined now. Actually, I have got a strategy meeting tonight." he says before stepping back and pulling out a gold watch on a chain from his vest pocket. He flips open the lid, sees the time and frowns, "I will have to be going soon." he turns the watch so I can see the face, "It starts at midnight."

"That seems a little late for –" I say but then something distracts me. Plutarch has run this thumb across the crystal face of the watch and for just a moment an image appears, glowing as if lit by candlelight. It's another mockingjay. Exactly like the pin given to me. Only this one disappears. He then snaps the watch closed.

"That's very beautiful." I tell him in a hushed voice.

"Oh, it's more than beautiful. It's one of a kind." Plutarch chuckles, "Now, if anyone asks about me, say I've gone home to bed. The meetings are suppose to be kept secret but I thought it'd be safe to tell you."

"Your secret is safe with me." I reply strongly.

As we shake hands, the calling for everyone to prepare for the presidential address is being sent throughout the crowd like shock waves. He gives a small bow, a common gesture here in the Capitol. "Well, I'll see you next summer at the Games, Anastasia. Best wishes with your pregnancy, I hope everything goes splendidly."

"Thank you." I say and then Plutarch disappears and I wander through the crowd in the opposite direction looking for Michael or Finnick, whilst searching for them, endless strangers congratulate me about my pregnancy, about my victory at the Games and on my choice of lipstick. I respond, but really I'm thinking about Plutarch showing off his pretty, one-of-a-kind watch to me. There was something strange about it. Maybe he thinks someone else will steal his idea of putting a disappearing mockingjay on a watch face. Yes, he probably paid a fortune for it and now he can't show it to anyone because he's afraid someone will make a cheap, knock-off version. Only in the Capitol. I find Michael admiring a table of elaborately decorated cakes, Dieter moves us from the table to stand just before the crowd as President Snow steps out onto the balcony to address the crowd.

The president wears a incredibly smart golden and blue suit with a white rose pinned to his lapel, "It is a great honour to have you all here tonight, to celebrate the victory of Anastasia and as her due date grows closer and closer, I would like to give her my best wishes that everything goes to plan." he says before raising his champagne glass to the crowd and as the glass reaches the highest point, a loud bang so similar to a arena cannon shatters the echoes of claps and cheers, turning too quickly I almost fall over I see fireworks, glistening lights and sparkles light up the sky like its the daytime. They are beautiful and almost manage to take my mind off President Snow however I must know the answer. Had I failed? Turning to look back at the president who slips at his drink, our eyes connect. And in answer to my question, he gives me an almost imperceptible shake of his head. I had failed in the eyes of President Snow.

In that one slight motion, I see the end of all hope and the beginning of destruction of everything I hold dear in the world. I can't guess what my punishment will be or how wide the net will be cast but when it is finished, there will most likely be nothing left. So you would assume that in this moment I would be in utter despair crumpling to the floor in a weeping mess however here's the strange thing, the main feeling I experience is relief, I can finally give up this happy, smiling act after this I am free, desperate times call for desperate measures, we could sail away to lands unknown. Not from here of course but from District 4, leave in the dead of night in a boat painted black and unmarked. We would leave, I'll take my child, Michael, Finnick, Annie and Mags if they want to go as well. Even Leila would be welcome to come along.

Once President Snow has disappeared back into his mansion, the party returns to full swing. Michael and I continue to eat food from the tables and I fall head over heels in love with a chip and dip that I actually didn't even know what it was however as I continued to eat it, I felt more and more crampy and unwell but I couldn't stop eating it, "I'll be back in a minute, getting more of this!" I tell Michael over the noise crowd, pointing to my half empty plate, my brother nods then gestures that he will be right here if I need him.

Pushing through the line of people at the table, I load up the food onto my china plate and that's when it happened unexpectedly. A sudden warmth invaded the inner sections of my thighs, looking down it's like something from a horror movie as red blood soaks into the front section of my dress, every fibre creating this marvellous creation that Vibia had spent hours upon hours making is ruined. Dropping my dinner plate as my stomach contracts sends the room into silence. Panic surges through me as a crowd descends on me to question what is happening, within a heartbeat Michael is beside me clutching my hand as my vision goes blurred at the edges and black. The friendly face of Finnick Odair is next to appear in front of mine but his face is a fuzzy image. Strongly built people in white outfits then push the Capitol crowd back, I guess by their aura of false authority that these people are Peacekeeper's. Strong grips remain on my arms as my legs wobble. Why is there blood? Is she okay? What's happening!? My eyelids feel incredibly heavy and I struggle to keep them open but every time I begin to close them, the familiar sound of Michael's soft voice pulls me back but only to the surface of the water that washes over me.

I cannot see it happening but the feel of hot blood trickling down my legs and pooling at my feet makes my entire body feel weak and as my stomach continues to clench up, I panic but my arms and legs are weak and I suddenly feel entirely helpless. I hate that feeling but as my entire body falls backwards into the strong arms of my brother, I begin to wonder if this was the work of President Snow, was this his plan the entire time, to make my and the death of my unborn child public? No one would bat an eyelid at the possibility this was a murder if it was to do with the pregnancy,

"No, no." Michael begs, "Keep away, keep your eyes on me."

But I can't, my eyes fall closed with my hand rested on my stomach. Praying that everything will be okay. Praying that Michael will forgive me for the lies and Finnick will forgive me for the pressures I have placed upon him but mainly, I pray that one day, she will be able to forgive me for my mistakes. That is she survives, Michael will take care of her, love her and tell her how much I loved her. But can this really be it? Have I fought this hard and broken this many rules just to give up everything here? Without a fight? God help me if I have, because then, I am a failure.

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><p><strong>AN:** _What do you think happened? Do you think Anastasia and her child are going to be okay or is this President Snows revenge for the districts? Review and tell me what you think._


	15. Chapter 15: The Unexpected

Chapter Fifteen.

**Unexpected Event and Arrival.**

_*Michael's POV*_

Her body crumpled like a piece of paper in my arms. The front of the dress looked as if it had been dripped in red paint but I knew it was something serious. Despite begging for her to keep her eyes open, Anastasia couldn't, there was too much blood loss and as she placed her hand on her stomach. I knew that if I couldn't save both, I had to save one. Anastasia knew this as well, the look in her eyes as she first felt the blood rushing down her legs said that it wasn't her life that needed to be saved now. It was her unborn child.

Peacekeeper's keep the panicked crowd of overly dressed Capitol people away from my sister whilst an ambulance arrives. They wheel a long bed into the room, collect my sisters body before taking her out to a vehicle equipped for all types of emergences. Finnick wasn't allow to accompany us in the ambulance to the hospital because he wasn't family however it wasn't difficult to find a driver willing to cart Dieter and Finnick to the Capitol hospital in their own private vehicle.

Almost immediately, the entire hospital went into lock down mode as a operating theatre was already prepared with a doctor and several nurses in scrub gear and masked. Wires and tubes where spread out everywhere like out of control ivy. The support staff transfer Anastasia from one bed to another, I am asked to keep out however I put up a vicious fight until the doctor allows me to stand by and hold her hand. I am required to wear scrubs and wash my hands thoroughly before entering however by then, the doctor has already started work on my unconscious sister, injecting needles into her with long tubes leading out filled with odd colour liquids to help the situation.

One of the four nurses inside the operating theatre with us places down a tray of clean and shiny metal operating tools. That is when I know where the doctors head is at, he knows exactly what has happened and what kind of action needs to be taken in order to save them.

"What happened?!" I demand to the nurse who has a hold of the bottom of Vibia's ruined dress. The blonde haired woman looked uneasy about answering my question in the open however as fury flashes through my eyes, the young person understands that I am in no mood to be pissed about with

"Anastasia's placenta has failed. She has lost a lot of blood." the nurse explained, holding onto my sister hand her pulse becomes noticeably, its weak and almost lifeless but it's there and as I watch the doctor remove a scalpel from the tray and make a long incision from hipbone to hipbone. A protective instinct snatches my body as I move quickly towards the doctor but the nurse grips my arm, "If we don't remove the child, both it and your sister could die." she warns me.

"I won't let that happen." I tell her.

She nods, "Then you need to step back and let the doctor do his job." she urges pushing on my chest slightly edging me backwards to the head of my sisters body. I retake her hand and perch on the seat another nurse had provided me with. Anastasia's skin was pale, even so with the layers of well done make-up Shazza and Coren had spent hours putting on. Her eyes remains closed but I could see her eyeballs rolling beneath her lids, almost searching for a way back to the light. From where I sit, I can see the glistening light on the doctors forehead as he hacks away at my sisters stomach. I try not to look because I don't want to know or witness something terrible if that was to happen. My hand gets clammy holding onto Anastasia's as her fingers turn blue I realise that I am holding on too tightly but I cannot will myself to let go, not even for a second. I have put her through to much crap to let go of her hand now. I am not going to leave her alone, never again.

The minutes seem to blur together, the orders from the doctors to the nurses becomes inaudible and I just focus on Anastasia's face which remains emotionless and completely unaware of what is happening, and I become hopeless that she will ever wake up. Was this President Snow's final play? That bastard if he thinks he will get away with this, he is wrong –

And then... out of nowhere... there it was... a cry, a beautiful, high-pitched cry... there _he_ was.

_*Finnick's POV*_

If you had never spoken and only looked at Dieter Rollo, you would think he was some pompous prick from the Capitol who didn't give a crap about anyone but it wasn't until now I realised how much this strange looking man cared about his previous tribute – now victor – until this event had unfolded in front of us. Dieter sprinted down the corridors of the hospital bumping into nurses and not apologising. He flapped like a bird that has lost the ability to fly when a member of staff refused or did not know where Anastasia had been taken but one look at me and I managed to charm out way into figuring out which way to go. And that's when we found the operating theatre, we aren't allowed access to the operating theatre because we are technically family but we are allowed to stay outside and view through the spectator window where blood covered several sterilized cloths, the doctors front apron was covered in odd looking substances, blood mixed with goo and so where the gloves of several nurses but it wasn't the state of the man in charge or the helper that gripped our attention, it was the bundle of blankets held in the arms of my fellow victor.

Michael's eyes connected with mine through the glass, his cheeks wet with tears as he gestured down to the bundle of blankets in his arms. Using my finger, I gesture for him to turn around and show us. He nods and turns slightly before raising one arm to bring the bundle of blankets slightly upwards to show off the face of the little baby. It's eyes are close and skin a faint purple. A baby. It's a real baby.

"A boy." he mouths through the glass. A hiccup laugh mixed with a sob echoes from Dieter beside me as he wipes his hand across his cheeks quietly cursing the make-up running down his face, I do the most human thing possible and wrap my arm around his shoulders and pull him in for a half-hearted hug. My ex-escort doesn't hesitate to wrap his arm closed to my body around my waist to include himself in the moment.

Watching through the glass, a nurse takes the newborn from Michael and places him inside his very own little bed where another nurse attends to her. Suddenly, lights begin to flash within the room and a male nurse is forcefully removing Michael from the room who is loudly asking what is happening as the nurses descend upon Anastasia's body like vultures. Michael is shoved out into the corridor to join myself and Dieter who act no better than the nurses and swarm him.

"What happened?" Dieter asks."Is the baby fine? What about Anastasia? Is she going to be okay?"

Michael rubs his face dry of tears before answering, "Anastasia placenta failed, she lost a lot of blood and the doctors needed to perform an emergency c-section in order to get the baby out in time before he died, they are now hooking him up to an oxygen machine."

"What about Anastasia, what are they doing to her?!" I demand, a little more protectively than originally planned.

Michael looked a little taken back, "I don't know. She's lost a lot of blood, I assume now they are just stitching her up and replacing the blood she has lost but they won't tell me what's happening." And then, he crumpled to the floor and wept like a child. We situate ourselves on the floor opposite the window so we could have a little view of what was happening however it was more so the doctor would see us and he knew that if he didn't save Anastasia, he would have to answer to two very angry Hunger Games victors and Dieter, who will no doubt drown him in glitter.

"She'll be okay. They both will be okay." that all I mumble to Michael because I know, deep down in my heart, aside from the threats from President Snow and the horrifying things that have crumpled Anastasia until a point of breaking, she has rebuilt herself up. Anastasia Hollern is no push over. She is a fighter. She has won the Games, held her own defence against President Snow and the bullshit she got from other people, especially in the districts. This isn't going to be the end of Anastasia Hollern, I won't be.

_*Anastasia's POV*_

When I awake, I am surprised. My vision is horrible blurred at the edges which are black making the centre image almost impossible to make out but the mangled body of a young man is laying across the chair placed in the far corner of the room. The lights above me glow softly allowing me vision to return quickly to pre-fainting standards which is when I register all in one hit, what had happened previously. Suddenly, I start yanking at the wires with no consideration of attempting to wake the man – who turns out to be Michael – I simply lunge out of bed, revealing that my legs where stronger than I thought and that I am wearing a thin cotton night dress. My hands start pulling at the hem of my dress so I can bring it up to reveal my stomach which doesn't show any signs of being pregnant, it's flat without any signs of the previous six months but then I notice something almost beautiful, a scar. The neat flaw runs from the inner section of my left hip just below my underwear line to my right. It's honestly the most beautiful thing I have ever seen so far.

"Anastasia?" a whisper asks. I turn to see Michael, looking groggy but conscious on the chair, "Oh, thank God, you're okay!" he exclaims engulfing me in a gentle hug before kissing my forehead passionately. I struggle free, very confused as too what is truly happening around me. Stubble has grown on Michael's face and his finger nails have been bitten to stubs whilst mine have grown to an impressive length.

"How long have I been asleep?" I ask him nervously, not really wanting to know the answer.

Michael nibbled his bottom lip, "About a four days." he replies, "But its okay, he doing great and –"

"– He?" I ask in disbelief, "I have a son?"

My brother nods.

"Where is he?" I ask angrily, "Why isn't he here with me?!"

Michael strokes my shoulder soothingly but I knock his hand away. I have missed almost a week of my sons life. So many hours I could have spent bonding with him I have been sleeping instead.

"He was three months early, the doctor said he needs extra support to make sure he survives." he tells me.

"Where is he?" I demand. Michael hesitates. "Where's my son, Michael?" I repeat, my voice far more firmly than before.

"He's in the Intensive Care Unit with the best staff looking after him. He's safe." Michael tells me resting his hands on my shoulders but I shake them off angrily. I am fuming. How can he be so stupid.

"You mean the best staff hired by President Snow, the same man that threatened to have us all killed and your letting them look after my son, your nephew, unsupervised?!" I growl before pouncing for the door, this amazing amount of energy that surged through my body was the result of being actively unable for six months. Guarding the outside of my room are two Peacekeeper's dressed in full uniform – tight trousers with discreetly armoured tops with batons hanging loose from their hips and helmets – they don't have a chance to even acknowledge me until I had disappeared around the corner to my right, scanning the walls for signs directing to the ICU. Michael's shouts echo through the corridors after me but he doesn't have a hoping hell in catching me now. My veins are glowing with white adrenaline and my legs feel stronger than ever. I feel like a tigress that has been caged up for far too long and now I am free. As I sprint down the corridors of the hospital, accidentally bumping into nurses and doctors. I find myself lost, angry and panicked about where I am suppose to be going and if my child was all right.

I find an electric board with lit up words and arrows directing the ways to several destinations, the words and ways to these places changed as new destinations came up but the way to the ICU never appeared. I growled angrily and found myself gripping the closest thing which happened to be a terrified nurse who whimpered as I pinned her against the well made wall. If I was a supernatural creature, my eyes with be burning red as I held her tight, fighting against her struggles.

"Where's the ICU?!" I growl.

The nurse cowards but replied, "You're not suppose to be out of bed. I will get into trouble."

My sharp nails inched their way into the skin of her arm, "Listen to me, I have had a very emotional couple of hours trying to the ICU and if you don't take me there, I promise that me being out of bed will be the least of your concern. Do you understand?" I ask, my voice oozes with evilness as I threaten the poor woman who is only doing her job and following the rules. The woman nods frantically so I could release her.

The brown haired nurse walks incredibly quickly down the corridor with me keeping to her side. The employee mindlessly guides us through the corridors until we reach a set of double doors which lead to the ICU however just like outside my assigned room, a pair of Peacekeeper guards stand watch. Along either side of the corridor are comfortable looking chairs lined up neatly. Seated on the door closest chair to the ICU entrance was Finnick who shot up the moment I came into view. He has changed his clothing but that doesn't mask the bags underneath his eyes.

"Hey you." he coos hugging me carefully. I hug him back knowing that I am close to him. "How are you feeling? You look great." he tells me backing up slightly to graze his thumb across my cheek. I bat him away playfully.

"Stop stalling me. Where is he?" I ask. Finnick remains silent, "I want to see him now."

From behind Finnick, one of the doors to the intensive care unit opens to reveal a shockingly familiar face. Then I recognise him as Dr Fords, the man in charge of me recovery after the Games. He hasn't changed much in the six months since I last seen him except that now I am standing up, the height difference between us is close to terrifying. He holds a clip-board and smiles at me once our eyes have met, holding the board between his side and arm, he steps forwards extending his free hand out to me. "Good to see you again, Miss Hollern." he beams happily. I shake his hand, unaware of what else I was suppose to do, seeing as he approached me and was in the unit at all means he has been placed in charge of looking after my son. I know that I can trust him on some sort of moral ground.

"In some ways I wasn't planning on meeting you again, Doctor." I reply with humour that makes Finnick smile snidely from slightly behind the doctor and raise his eyebrows whilst smiling. As Dr Fords glances at the clip-board, I peer around to give Finnick a hard glare that only makes my ex-mentor chuckle more but he holds it in to save himself embarrassment.

Then Fords turns back to me and gives a long stare, "Are you ready to meet your child?" he asks. I am consumed with terror as I imagine how the next several minutes will go, will I be terrible or will it be okay? Nevertheless, I nod. Dr Ford smiles and Finnick follows silently.

The ICU was empty, I pass rooms that could be used instead of wasted just left to rot. However in a few short minutes we are stopped outside a room that has it's window blocked with a blind. Dr Ford opens the door to reveal a nurse hovering over my son, I can feel my pulse rise with anger as she smiles happily. My son remains silent.

"Excuse me." I growl.

The nurse stands up straight with her face flushed red with embarrassment at the sight of me. Dr Ford instructs the nurse to leave us alone as I adventure over to peer at my son who lays on his back sleeping. He is beautiful with fleshly pink skin with small traces of brown hair and just as I stroke his cheek, his eyes open to reveal piercing dark blue eyes. As I trace my way down to his little hand, he grips a hold and it's then I suddenly feel it, a warn sensation rises in my chest, I will never ever forget that moment of our first touch, the sudden real connection between a mother and her son. He was so warm, alive and perfect in every single way.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** _There we go, the arrival of Anastasia's child. I spent a long time thinking about how I was going to do this so I hope you're happy and enjoy the chapter, make sure you tell me what you think by reviewing. In the next chapter, Anastasia will name him which I also hope you will like. So review and tell me what you think but also remember to follow and/or favourite. _


	16. Chapter 16: It's All About Him

Chapter Sixteen.

**It's All About Him Now.**

"Can I hold him?" I ask tenderly turning back to look at the two men who accompanied me. Finnick laughs at me request whilst the doctor nods, setting down his clip-board before joining me beside glass coat where my son laid. Dr. Ford gentle scoops him up making special effort to support his neck as he begins to stir releasing a whimper. He transfers him from his hands to my arms, he was so tiny I was actually glad when he cried because then I knew he was okay, it was a relief to hear him. That made it realise it was real. "Is that right?" I ask the doctor as I supported his head with the crook of my right arm with the body held by my arms close to my chest with his bum set in the gap between my forearm and upper-arm in the crook of my elbow. Doctor Fords nods before stepping back to stand level with Finnick who is grinning like an idiot.

"You're so tiny." I mumble to the infant, Finnick has moved from the doorway to stand slightly behind me peering over my shoulder with a smile. "Hi baby, its great to finally meet you. I know you." I tell my son.

"He has your eyes." Finnick whispers.

I shake my head, "No, he has Cato's eyes." I tell him, then the child in my arms begins to cry and I cannot help but grin, "Well, if you're going to cry." I chuckle before releasing my emotions, the tears fall from my eyes and my face crumples. Finnick rubs my shoulders gently, the Doctor stands back in the doorway filling out forms on his clip-board.

"Do we have a name yet?" Dr. Ford asks.

"What has be been called for the last four days?" I ask curiously.

Finnick chuckles, "Baby Boy Hollern." I cannot help but chuckle because that sounds rather hilarious.

"Have you thought about a name?" Dr. Ford asks again, passing over my child to Finnick sturdy arms, I take the clip-board from the doctor, of course I had chosen a name, I spent six months sat inside reading at home with several baby books filled with names and their meanings but I had decided. I filled out the form.

_FIRST NAME_: Lucas.

_MIDDLE NAME_: Cato.

_SURNAME_: Hollern.

"What is it?" Finnick asks.

I turn to him with a smile. "Lucas. That's Lucas Cato Hollern." I tell my ex-mentor with a smile. Finnick chuckles but nods in agreement. I hand the clip-board back to Dr. Ford who takes it gratefully, I had chosen Lucas as the name if I had a son because it means light. A new hope. That is what he is, new hope and light.

"I want him to stay in my room. Or I'll move in here." I tell Dr. Ford once Finnick has removed himself to go and speak to Michael.

The doctor signs heavily and flicks through the paperwork on his clip-board. "We'll move you into here because Lucas' machine is already set up in here and it won't be difficult to move the items you need into here." he tells me.

I nod, "Okay."

We spent three more weeks in the ICU and every single day Lucas' conditions improves however the towers of gifts sent from citizens of the Capitol that rest in the corner of our room got taller and taller before spreading out a little further. Dieter and Vibia have been to visit and had cuddles but I am overly protective when it comes to that nurse I encountered on the first day. Whenever I am doing something she automatically assumes I am struggling and tries to intervene. Peacekeeper's have been set outside our room as well as the front doors to the units because of camera crews and reporters trying to get photographs and interviews. The rest of my team have already been hassled by them however I know soon I will have to face them. Dr. Ford has given Lucas' a routine of medication that will help with lung development and soon – fingers-crossed – he won't have to be strapped to a breathing machine at night. We will be given the date we can leave soon however between now and then, I have questions to answer from my prep-team who still haven't been fully informed on what happened that night at the Presidential Palace and I also need to tell Finnick and Michael about President Snow refusing my performance during the Victory Tour however he has sent a card attached to a large bouquet of white roses and a gift for Lucas, a small babies dummy with the Panem symbol on it. I will never allow Lucas to suck on it. Dieter has arranged an interview with Caesar Flickerman for the day we are scheduled to leave giving Vibia a couple of weeks to arrange a nice, comfortable outfit to me to sit in during the questioning.

"I don't want to do an interview!" I whine cradling Lucas in my arms, he is drifting off but I really want to feed him before he drifts off completely so he isn't grumpy. Dieter signs heavily as he is interrupted by Lucas grumbling as I attempt to push the teat of the bottle passed his mouth. After several attempts, he takes the teat gratefully in his mouth and suckles hungrily.

"President Snow insists." Dieter says rolling his eyes, "I'm sorry but –"

"– He always gets his way." I finish.

Dieter nods. Michael enters the room gasping for air and readjusting his clothing like he had just been through a strong wind but I know it was the result of walking through the Capitol crowd. They are rowdy and sometimes they disturb Lucas which means he keeps me up all night so I am tired and grouchy but I still have to deal with people and act polite. Once Lucas has finished feeding, I place him down into the coat beside me, he grumbles and whimpers before crying however I let him cry because in a few minutes he has passed over the stage and falls into a odd looking sleep. I'm not qualified to touch the breathing machine so every night when Lucas falls asleep, I have to press a button at the side of my bed which alerts Dr. Ford who then adventures from wherever he is in the hospital to my room to fix the machine onto my child's face.

"How much longer do we have to stay here for?" I ask impatiently once he had finished securing the tube to my sons nostrils.

"Not enjoying yourself?" Dr. Fords jokes but I don't find it humorous, the doctor gives me a glance as if to apologise before shrugging, "The drugs are working incredibly well, tomorrow we have him scheduled for a MRI scan to check on the lungs, then based on the results from the first scan compared to this scan we will determine how much longer we require Lucas to stay." he tells me very formally.

This place is beginning to rub me up the wrong way, the smell of disinfectant and boring white with no other colours. Michael and the rest of my team are staying in our old living quarters in the Training Centre with the Avox serving them from my previous stay when I was a tribute. I make an effort to ask Michael if the male Avox is okay but of course I cannot tell him why I am so desperate to know therefore Michael never gives me a satisfactory answer, normally it isn't even close to an answer at all. Finnick comes to visit me but not for my benefit as the entire duration of his stays are made up of him holding Lucas like his own life depended on holding my son, I'm not bothered, I actually enjoy it because knowing that Finnick is there protecting me son, I make an effort to catch up on some much needed sleep as during the night I usually find myself awake in case someone I didn't know entered or posed a threat to either Lucas or myself under the orders of a disappointed and angry President Snow.

"Are you okay?" Finnick asks me as I make myself comfortable in my hospital bed.

I nibble my bottom lip before half-heartedly shrugging, "I just want to go home." I reply.

"Don't we all? But, we can't until Lucas is given the all clear." he says softly.

I nod, "Yes, I know. Really I just want to leave the Capitol, been here too long I dont want his first memories to be of the Capitol hospital." I said.

Finnick chuckles.

"What?" I ask.

My ex-mentor just shakes his head, suppressing the faint giggles that crumple his face.

"Tell me, what?" I demand playfully.

He manage to control himself long enough to speak. "Nothing, just... you've turned into such a mother duck. Panicking over what his first memories are going to be, he's just under a month old. He doesn't even know what memories are, you have the rest of his life to build up memories." Finnick tells me.

I laugh because it's true, my worrying about him remembering the Capitol is silly because if I ever have my way, he will never see this place again. "I guess you're right." I reply, then my eyes challenge to the piles of gifts. "How many people have sent in gifts?" I question.

Finnick shrugs, "Not sure, they have been sending them to various places in the Capitol since the news of Lucas' birth."

"Where else have they been sending them?" I ask.

"They have sent them here, the living quarters and now the train station."

Oh, God, I think, I cannot understand why all these people are sending me gifts, why do they feel they have to spend their money on things that could actually help me. It is possible for the people of the Capitol – who cheer the killing of innocent children – to have a brain of their own instead of President Snow's?

"You should get some sleep." Finnick advices with a grin, "You look awful."

I roll my eyes, "Still charming, I see."

"Always."

Laying down, I curl up on my side drowning in the comfort that I haven't got a stomach poking in my way. I put my arm beneath my pillow expecting to feel my fishing knife but I don't, remembering this isn't home. The cold air grazes my skin of my arm as it remains above the covers with the side of my face buried in the soft pillow.

"Finnick?" I ask, my voice is no louder than a whisper.

There is a little shuffling before he replies, "Yes Anastasia?"

"If anything happens to me, will you and Annie look after Lucas?" I ask.

Finnick edges a little closer to me, "Why would you say that?"

"Just answer the question," I urge.

"Of course we will look after him." Finnick promises,

I nod, "Good."

Lucas begins to whimper, my body goes ridged and I sit up automatically causing Finnick to chuckle. I take my son from Finnick and cradle him against my chest humming a simple tune that seems to work in calming him down.

Finnick watches me with hawk-like eyes after several minutes he takes a seat beside me on the bed and curls an arm around him bringing me in to lean against his body. "Why did I promise that?" he asks me, if it wasn't for his voice being next to my ear, I could have missed it almost immediately.

"Because President Snow wasn't convinced. We need to protect Lucas, it's not about me anymore. I'm going to do whatever I need to do in order to protect him but I'm going to need your help." I vow. Finnick's body goes ridged beside me s my whispered words leave my lips. "Will you help me?" I ask.

"I've already promised I would." Finnick chuckles. "Do me and Annie get a special name for doing this?"

"What did you have in mind?" I ask, mentally preparing myself for whatever Finnick Odair was about to suggest. And I was right too.

Finnick thinks for a moment, literally about fifteen seconds before replying, "Third-people-in-line-to-raise-Lucas."

I shake my head. "No, that's awful."

"What do you suggest then?" Finnick asks like I couldn't think of a better name.

Suppressing my smile, "How about... God Parents?" I suggest.

Finnick's smile breaks into a grin before nodding and looking down at Lucas, grazing my sons forehead with his index finger. "Yeah, I like that." he smiles. I nod in agreement, I like it as well. Michael will be the person Lucas will go too in the event of my unscheduled death, Finnick and Annie will be third if something happened to Michael. My mother and her new family will not be getting my son, literally over my dead body along with Michael, Annie, Finnick and Mags. She will not be caring for my son, filling his mind with her bullshit tales of abandonment.

"Get some sleep, Anastasia." Finnick urges, scooping up my son and placing him in the cot before buzzing for Dr. Ford who enters, connects the machine to my son and exits, Finnick signs heavily, "Don't worry, I will stay." he tells me. I ask if he is certain and he simply nods before taking a seat surrounded by gifts and I ease back into my bed turning over so I have a view of Lucas sleeping as I feel myself drift out of consciousness.

****xxx****

The next morning, Dr. Ford informs me that Lucas' scan is scheduled for a couple of hours, sneakily the doctor has booked me in for a routine blood test and check-up meaning that me and my son will have to be separate for an hour or so whilst he has his scan and I get poked and prodded with needles. Finnick leaves once a nurse takes me from my room and Dr. Ford takes my son, both members of staff are under orders to take us to needed locations. Lucas' is still in the ICU as is mine but his is slightly closer which makes my stomach turning thinking he could finish before me and left in the presence of a stranger but I don't say anything as I am aware that I am becoming an overprotective mother, with good reason but I should trust these people surely, they are paid to keep people alive and the welfare and moral of people high, whoever left with my son is no doubt trained in that area of child care. I should trust them.

The nurse that is in charge of taking my blood is middle aged with surgically changed eyes which are practically glowing blue against her dark coloured skin. She directs me too a seat before removing a packaged needle and two glass tubes with rubbed covers on top with a hole in the middle, ready for the needle. "Your left arm." she orders with her hand stretched outwards, I place my wrist in her hand and she slaps the inner elbow rather violently trying to get a vein to surface. Eventually after a irritating minute of holding back the urge to slap this woman back, a vein comes to the surface of my skin and she stops. Now, I have a huge problem with needles, the thinner they are the scarier they appear to me so when the nurse unpack a thickish needle, I can feel my nerves begin to spark as my palms sweat and the air suddenly seems heavy. She moves the needle towards my skin and I edge away, "It'll be over before you know it." she tells me and before I can reply, she drives the tip through my skin into the vein before attaching the glass tube to the bottom. A sharp intake of air whips through my nostrils as my skin prickles, the sound of thick liquid is intriguing and soon the first little tube is full. "Will you hold that?" she asks, giving me no room to actually answer before she shoves it into my hand, it's warm but its a strange warmth, knowing this should be inside my body rather than out.

"They just pumped me full of someone else's blood a little under a month ago, are you sure this is mine?" I question the nurse as the second tube reaches the halfway point. Inside my head, I hold a valuable argument however the dark-skinned nurse looks up at me with her far too bright eyes and shakes her head before returning back to my arm. After the second tube is filled, the nurse removes the it from the end of the needle before placing it into a rack specially designed for glass blood tubes, "Wouldn't if of been easier to have one tube but slightly larger?" I ask simply trying to defuse whatever hatred she has for me but the nurse seems to actually dislike me. The nurse then checks my eyes and ears before taking a brief look at my scar.

"Don't worry," she says, "I'll book you in so we can erase that."

I shake my head, "Oh, no. That's okay, I want to keep it." I argue.

"But it's... ugly." the nurse replies.

Scoffing, I sit back up and pull down the shirt provided by the hospital, "At least it's real." I snap staring into her eyes, through the nurses dark skin I watch the nurse blush furiously certain that if she was an animal or like me, she would have growled. "Are we done here?" I ask angrily slipping off the examination table. The nurse barely has time to speak before I exit the room leaving the door hanging up much like her mouth and adventuring down the hallways, passing Dr. Ford who immediately stops at the sight of me.

"Where's Lucas?" I ask frantic.

Dr. Ford tries to look at me in a calmed manor but there is a level of panic in the man's eyes, "In your room with a... visitor." he replies, stressing the word 'visitor' incredibly strongly. Inside my head, I change the young doctors words into 'get back to your room' and I sprint passed him down the corridor, slipping around the corridors gripping onto the walls for extra support and then I burst into my room, the door handle still in my grip as I see the visitor – a medium height male wearing a deep purple suit made from the finest silk with white hair, it doesn't take long for the potent smell of roses and blood to invade my nostrils. "Hello, Miss Hollern." he says. The man turns to face me, his puffy lips are parted revealing and his white teeth which match his bread. The snake-like eyes which are embedded into the hollow face are wrinkled due to the evil smile he wears as he holds my sleeping son.

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><p><strong>AN:** _What do you think of the name Lucas? What do you thinks going to happen next? And I'm sorry for the early uploading but I have a assignment due and I haven't started so I'm going to spend the day doing it._


	17. Chapter 17: The Unwanted Visitor

Chapter Seventeen.

**Unwanted Visitor.**

My eyes flicker uncontrollably between my sleeping son and President Snow. I guess no one would bat an eyelid at him wanting to visit, after all I did almost bleed to death at a party in my honour at his mansion. He must have waited for the perfect moment when myself and Lucas where going to be separate and he nabbed the chance to surprise me which he certainly did. My heart speeds in my chest at the sight of Lucas in the arms of the murderous man in Panem but I don't act rationally. Instead, I step inside calmly and closed the door behind myself. President Snow's grin a little wider as I step further into the room carefully.

"How are you, Miss Hollern?" President Snow asks, "You gave us quite the scare during the party."

"I'm fine thank you." I reply.

President Snow huffs like he is unhappy to hear it, "I assume you received my present."

I nod, "It's beautiful, truly thank you."

"Have you forgotten the rules of our last conversation?" he asks annoyed. "No lying."

Again, I nod. He shifts his arms to readjust Lucas but the actions make me flinch in pain.

"Oh please," the man scoffs, "I have a granddaughter, so believe you me. I have plenty of practise holding a child."

_And watching them die, _I add in my head. "How old is your granddaughter?" I ask.

"Twenty-three." President Snow replies. "She's a dear girl. So grown up."

"I'm sure she is." I reply.

President Snow's gaze is turned from me to my son, "She idolises you now. Says your performance in the arena was eye-opening and spectacular." he tells me.

"It wasn't an performance." I reply shortly. Along with the sharp edge to my words, the president's eyes burn holes in my chest as they shift back to me. President Snow smiles happily before nodding. He then steps forwards to approach me, my son keep face in the warmth of his arms.

"Remember, Anastasia, I want us to be friends." he reminds me of our conversation back in District 4 before my Victory Tour had begun, "Your only job on the tour was to diffuse all doubt of your love for Cato. Which, I admit you did a splendid job in doing so however, well, you were there. The districts were coming together, fighting against the authority place in those districts to keep order. They look up to you." he finishes.

"I don't want anybody looking up to me. I can't help them." I reply.

President Snow removes one hand from beneath my son to pat my shoulder, "I know and soon they will see that you are of no use to them." he says, my blood freezes and my face hardens, was this a threat? I could never tell with the smooth voice he has. The president smiles at me slyly, "Good luck with your son. He is lovely, truly." the man says before transferring my son over to me.

I try to hide my relief to have my son out of that man's arms and into my own. President Snow grin at me before brushing passed to rest his hand on the door, my heart rate begins to settle as I watch the door open, "Oh, before I forget." he says, turning back to study me. "Dr. Ford has given your son the all clear to head for home tomorrow, meaning you will have an interview with Mr Flickerman beforehand." he tells me, "Might I ask one more thing from you Miss Hollern?"

Despite nodding, every single nervous impulse is telling me so say no but it's too late, I have nodded. "Yes."

"I am suppose to give a surprise visit, I would very much like it if you acted as if it was the first time you have seen me since the party. Can you do that?" he asks incredibly patronisingly.

"No problem." I say with a half grin. And then the president of Panem leaves the room and the air instantly feels lighter. I clutch my child closer to my chest as I stumble over to the bed where I place my son down to check him off, making a silent vow that if that man has broken one hair on his head, they will have to charge me with the murder of the president. However then I am certain he is fine, I climb onto the bed beside Lucas and pick him back up. "You're okay." is all I can mumble to my son as he makes strange noises in reply which makes me chuckle. Yeah, he is okay which means President Snow gets to live another day. And with the satisfactory feeling that my son is capable to breath for himself, I allow him to fall asleep wrapped in my arms like a cocoon of protection and knowing that he is safe brings me enough comfort that I too, fall asleep.

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><p><strong>AN:** _All right, so President Snow has sort of threatening her but not exactly given any solid information to if he actually will, so tell me what you think about this chapter!_


	18. Chapter 18: Coming Home

Chapter Eighteen.

**I'm Coming Home.**

Like a well oiled machine, Shazza and Coren prepare me for my final interview, my hair is brushed and my make-up added to make my look flawless and beautiful with highlighting to bring out my eyes. Vibia has created a pretty coral coloured dress that comes in at the waist to make obvious of my non-pregnant stomach with short sleeves and the hem falls just passed my knees with matching coloured high heel shoes. Thankfully the heels Vibia has chosen for me to wear has a chunk heel so the entire bass is connected so I don't feel as if I am wobbling on my heel as I carry my son onto stage for the entire nation to see. I could much rather keep my sons image a secret however that wouldn't be much of a interview for the Capitol audience who has spent a little over the last three-quarters of a month sending gifts – which have now all been carted onto the train ready for the ride home. I refuse to let Vibia dress my month old son in some stupid outfit so I let Michael dresses Lucas into a dark blue baby-grow sent in by one of the Capitol citizens. I also refuse Coren or Shazza the satisfaction of putting make-up on my son so he doesn't look 'washed out' on camera. He's a baby! Leave him alone.

Finnick arrive at the hospital all dressed up carrying an outfit for Michael. They will not be interviewed however any public appearance requires them to be dressed up. Dieter pounces into the room ready and excited before running through the schedule that only contains getting to the Training Centre by a certain time then getting the hell out of the Capitol. Dieter and Vibia will accompany myself, Lucas, Michael and Finnick back to District 4 whilst Coren and Shazza remain here in the Capitol.

An hour later on the stage inside the Training Centre, I mindlessly chatter my way through a list of questions that Caesar Flickerman flawlessly guides me through along with several from the audience. Caesar is dressed in a twinkling midnight-blue suit, his hair, eyelids and lips stilled dyed powder blue. I smile happily holding my son who gets a little grumpy during the interview and begins to grumble and cry, Caesar asks if he can have a cuddle and I see no reason to refuse the one person who has made me look like a gem in the eyes of the Capitol people. Lucas stops crying almost immediately as he takes a look at the strange man. The crowd chuckles and cheers at the cuteness of my child.

"Can I hold him?" one man calls out from the crowd followed by loud seconds of that question.

I put my best fake smile on, "I would love to let you all have a cuddle but we have to go home eventually." I reply with a laugh. Caesar returns my son with a chuckle. President Snow make a 'surprise' visit to congratulate me, I act all surprised and shocked as he shakes Caesar's hand hello before embracing me and plants a puffy kiss on my cheek whilst been careful of my son that makes a block between our bodies. We have light conversation that normally questions on how I intend to raise Lucas by myself which I tell them that I have plenty of people willing to help me if I need it – I daren't mention any names because that might mark them down on President Snow's list of people who are close to me – then if I knew I was expecting a boy to which I tell everyone I spent the duration of my pregnancy calling him a her.

Once the Q&A was over, I say goodbye to the crowd before travelling through the streets of the Capitol in a car with darkened windows with Finnick and Michael. Behind us, another car brings my prep-team. The throngs of people celebrating are so thick it's slow going. But Dieter has planned this all out and by two o'clock that afternoon, we have arrived at the train station because we missed lunch due to the interview, the staff members have prepared a meal for us. I sit and eat whilst Dieter holds Lucas, I feed him shortly after but all he wants to do is sleep, I guess he cannot do much else. Inside my living quarters, a special small cot has been set up beside my bed but I enjoy holding him as he sleeps. There are also piles of clothes sent in from the Capitol, I am certainly surprised to see that all the baby-grows are plain with no over-exaggerated pieces sewn on. They are all masculine colours, blue, green and orange with a few whites but I can only imagine how awkward that will be to wash. I am so tired, I don't make it to dinner instead I quickly shower whilst Dieter keeps an eye on Lucas, then I change into a set of pyjama's and retrieve a bottle of processed milk because I was too late on starting to breast feed plus no one even offered to help.

On the way back through the silent corridors, both baby and bottle in hands, a beeping noise catches my attention. I step back, angling my head perfectly to peer through the door into a surveillance room where three Peacekeepers sit in white uniforms armed with guns sit in front of several large screens. As I focus on the screens, they turn back and then the words "UPDATE ON DISTRICT 8" start flashing. Instinctively I know this is not for my eyes but something intended only for the Peacekeepers on board. I should go. Quickly. Instead I find myself stepping closer to the gap.

An announcer I have never seen before appears. It's a woman with greying hair and a authoritative voice, she warns that conditions are worsening and a Level 3 alert has been called. Additional forces are being sent to District 8 and all textile production has ceased.

They cut away from the woman to the main square in District 8. I recognise it because I was only there a week ago. There are still banners with my face waving from rooftops. Below them, there's a mob scene. The square's paced with screaming people, their faces hidden with rags and home-made masks, throwing bricks. Burning buildings. Peacekeepers shoot into the crowd killing at random.

I remember District 8 being one of the calmer districts on my tour or was that because I didn't know any of the tributes form there but this is crazy, the fact the calmer districts where turning to the wind. I have never seen anything like this before but I can only be witnessing one thing. This is what President Snow calls an uprising.

Almost sprinting, I rush down the train from the surveillance room to my living chambers making sure to lock the main door. No, this cannot be happening! No! Just as I begin to feel a weight lift off my shoulders, it all comes crashing back down twice as heavy as before. However President Snow is very aware of this because he spoke about it in the Capitol, surely this will all die down soon. I mean, I have a child there's not much I can do and once I'm back in the safety of my district, there isn't much chance of me mentoring until Lucas is a little older meaning I have sometime to prepare myself and allowing the fire to cool down in the districts before I am forced to see the streets of the Capitol again but that won't stop the Hunger Games continuing.

I miss dinner due to the inability to swallow the surveillance report but I don't tell Dieter than when he comes to ask me why I haven't adventured down for food. Missing dinner gave me time to spend with my son and in the comfort of my living quarters I was confident no one who posed a threat could enter. And it wasn't like I couldn't defend myself so I can protect him as well. "Guess where we are going?" I whisper to Lucas who stirs slightly stretching out against the side of my body, "We're going home! You'll get meet everyone and they'll love you so much, not more than I do though." I tell him before drifting off into a light sleep, my body aches to get home. Back to the safety of my over sized house in Victor's Village surrounded by other mentally scarred people who know me. Back to my real family and where I can begin to build on my own family. Just Lucas and I, plus Michael and the other crazies. They are my real family.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** _The interview is over and they are heading home but with District 8 being destroyed from the inside out. Do you think Anastasia is safe? Or do you think action will be taken or will it all die down in end? But, anyway, what did you guys think of this chapter? Review._


	19. Chapter 19: I'll Help You

Chapter Nineteen.

**Always Happy To Lend A Hand.**

In true Capitol fashion, my arrival back to District 4 was televised however a strange sense of relief washed over me as there was far less people at the station. Mags and Annie where at the front of the crowd, Annie holding a wrapped up gift and Mags flowers. I greet them almost immediately as I attempt to get through the crowd as the Peacekeepers clustered around me in a protective bubble. Lucas awakes due to the noise created from the crowd and I was anxious to get him away from the station and into our home. The gifts from the Capitol people where carted into a separate car and driven through the streets with us to Victor's Village where a handful of men from the train unload them, simply piling them in my front living room before leaving. I attempt to thank them but they pay me no attention and simply remove themselves from Victor's Village, driving back to the station.

Annie is the first to hold Lucas back in my home. She talks to him mindlessly for hours, it's almost as if she believes he can really understand her as she tells him all about the mornings she sat and spoke to him through my stomach. And when I bring up the question of her being Lucas' God-Mother, she cries uncontrollably into Finnick's shoulder and because of her mental instability, I am forced to remove Lucas from her clutch as Annie whimpers due to the fear she may drop him. Don't get me wrong, I have complete faith in Annie but I would rather not risk it and so whilst Annie is taking in the question of whether or not she wants to be my sons God-Mother, Mags has a go holding him. Eventually, Annie agrees to the role of God-Mother which is when we tell her Finnick had actually already accepting the role for her back in the Capitol.

That night, we decide to have dinner together round mine. Mags and Michael are in charge of cooking therefore Finnick and myself help set up arrangements, bring food from the other victor's houses before cutting vegetables and other pieces of food which need chopping whilst Annie becomes super-nanny and looks after Lucas, she is such a natural I am filled with so much jealously that if she was a nurse in the Capitol hospital, I would have snapped at her viciously but then I remember that she is just Annie Cresta, my friend, a member of my family. One of the only people I can trust wholeheartedly in this world.

As Lucas sleeps in a protective fort made from the soft sofa pillows, we all eat happily with a baby monitor sitting beside my plate at the kitchen table so in case Lucas awakens, I can go see if he's okay, but I can tell my over-protective side is coming through when Michael speaks up. "He's just through there," Michael says gesturing behind us, "Do you really need a baby monitor?"

I shrug and ignore him because I know that keeping a good eye on him with increase his chance of surviving. President Snows threats still haunt me, despite knowing I may have defused the situation that no-one believed mine and Cato's love, there is still the unrest in the Capitol that needs resolving but that is all up to the president now, I'm done in the limelight.

Around ten-thirty, we have all washed up and put the dishes and glasses away. Annie was finishing feeding Lucas whereas Michael and Mags had left some time before that, both giving me kisses before wondering off to their homes.

"When are you and Annie going to have children?" I whisper to Finnick as we stand near the front door waiting for his long term girlfriend to finish faffing about with my son. Finnick eyes me up awkwardly with his lips pressed into a firm, thin line. "What?" I ask.

Finnick shakes his head, "I don't plan on having them." he replies bluntly.

"Doesn't mean that you won't, you know, eventually." I say.

"Yes it does," he insists, "I don't want them knowing there is a possibility that they could be reaped. Just imagine, if everyone stopped having children, there would be no ammo for the games."

I scoff, "That's never going to happen though, is it?" I asks him, "I never wanted children for that exact fear of them being reaped, and then I thought, it could never happen, all they need to go is last six reapings. Just one day a year they need to be lucky,"

"It happened to you." he objects.

"It happened to you as well." I reply, "And to Annie, and Michael and Mags, and it'll happen to a lot more children unless these Games are stopped but that's not going to happen because people are afraid."

Finnick shakes his head, "No, you saw the districts, they were coming together. You give them hope. Fear only works if people have no hope, you give them that." he tells me.

"Actually Finnick, I haven't told Michael yet but on the train, I saw a video report from District 8, it was crazy, people where fighting back. They weren't submitting to the Peacekeepers, they were destroying their own districts." I tell him.

"See? Hope," Finnick replies with a shrug, "It's just a flame, it'll die off eventually." And before I can reply, Annie calls me from the other room to inform me that Lucas is asleep. We say our good night's and the couple head off home, leaving me alone with my son, not under any surveillance.

I lock every window and entrance into my home downstairs before checking the gas cooker was off in the kitchen before heading upstairs to lock all the windows. I remove my Capitol clothing and replace them with soft pyjama's before changing Lucas into some new clothing throwing the dirty clothes in the hamper. I stack the pillows along the left side of the bed setting Lucas next to them and then me on the end keeping him secure in the center. Lucas sleeps soundly, occasionally making a gurgle or whimper and I don't sleep, not completely. I remain in a dazed state that allows me to relax but not completely fall asleep.

**xxx**

_It's not being able to hear that's the worse thing about standing on the podium. Everything is so distorted by the adrenaline entering and racing through your veins that noises become blunt. Your vision becomes clear but that only helps you to read the countdown as it flashes before you, no matter how much tributes will lead on that they kept their eyes on a piece of equipment the entire countdown, that's a lie because of the lack of sound, your eyes flicker between the threats rather than listening to them breathing or their hearts beating. And when your finally released, you are delayed by the lack of noise that your body registers, you can only pray that you were looking in the right direction or you'll miss it. Despite your chest burning, your limbs screaming for release you continue running, looking for an item to take but such a large portion of a tributes brain is focused on the whereabouts of other tributes and then you assume you know the field and the placements of the pawns. That's the biggest mistake you make, and then, it's all over with a…_

_Crash! _I am awoken by something falling in my back garden. My entire body is ridged and dripping with cold sweat as I escape the warm comfort of my bed to glance out of my window beside my bed to catch the distorted images of what appear to be figures. Human people in my back garden. Removing my fishing knife from my bedside draw, I remove the metal object from it's leather pouch before setting the baby monitor onto extra sensitive, I slip on my dressing gown and slip the receiver for the monitor into one of the pockets. I move Lucas from the bed to the cot so I am certain there is no chance of him rolling out of bed before slyly adventuring downstairs into the back porch to unlock the door, take the key and exit before locking up the door behind me.

The faint flickers of torch light takes me back to the arena and I'm suddenly paralysed with fear but I push myself forwards needing to figure out who these people where and why they are snooping around Victor's Village in the middle of the night. Their footsteps become louder as my hunter senses kick in, my vision has adjusted well to my nights in the dark arena with my sense of smell prone to the scent of sweating humans and my hearing sharpened due to the surgery they much have done after my victory.

"If we go, we go now." a quiet voice whispers. A scoff sounds a little louder than the whisper beforehand earning the person either a slap or hit because the sound of flesh being hit is the third wave of noise to travel through the condensed trees beyond my back garden. "We can make it." the same voice urges.

"The woodland will kill us. Damn, we don't even know where we are going!" another voice snaps.

The group, estimated at about three possibly, begin to quietly argue until a familiar voice speaks up to silence them with a statement, "I know exactly where we are going, okay! I memorized the map from the Justice Building!" the speaker tells the others.

"Leila?" my voice speaks the name before I even register it.

The group hops in panic before the flash lights are turned on me, temporally blinding me until they register who I am and then the members of the woodland group lower their torches to the ground illuminating their own faces. I recognise them all, four in total but only three the same age as me – seventeen – and all previously attended the same District 4 high school as myself however non of us attend now. The two boys from my year are called Hayden and Arnold but the one that makes up the three is called Dalton, a member of the council here in District 4. They make up the group of three and then of course, add Leila to get the fourth member. The entire group wear thick coats and trousers with boots made for walking in different terrain, in fact they look similar to the boots I wore in the arena.

"What are you guys doing?" I ask, my voice shallow because I fear Head Peacekeeper, Embry, might hear us and decide to investigate that would put the group before me in a cell for the rest of their lives with me as a 'accomplice' despite having no real evidence, President Snow would second that motion to have me and the others publicly executed.

"We're leaving." Hayden replies for Leila who looks as if she had frozen solid by the sight of me. Since my arrival back to the district today, she hasn't come over to visit, not like then I returned from the Games. It almost feels like she has been avoiding me.

I raise my eyebrows at her to make up for the dropping of my jaw, "You're crazy. You can't leave, they'll kill you everyone of you!" I hiss indicating to herself and the boys stood randomly amongst the trees.

"They won't catch us!" Leila argued back.

I scoff with a hint of dry humour which takes them all a little by surprise, "If they don't kill you, out there will, it's not as easy as you may think now to survive out there." I tell her not paying any real attention to the others.

"Oh, shut up will you!" Arnold snaps, "Not everything is about The Games, Anastasia. Just go home to your huge house and fatherless kid because no one asked you to poke your nose in –"

And the blade is thrown without much of a first thought. I didn't aim to kill him however I did manage to – rather amazingly – nick the fabric around the right side of his throat with my blade which then embedded its tip into the tree trunk behind him. They all gasp and leap backwards away from Arnold whose eyes have widened in shock, I step forwards not afraid if they were to turn violent because I'm stronger than them not to mention more skilled with developed killer instincts that I seem to have got in the arena.

"You would have killed me!" Arnold snaps viciously a little louder than a whisper causing everyone else to hush at him whilst I remove the the knife from his jacket.

"But I didn't, so count yourself lucky." I laugh as Leila pushes her way between us, I guess that as so she could diffuse a fight if one breaks out but that isn't going to happen, not unless Arnold decides to speak loud again. I turn to her, with venom dripping from my voice, "Where do you plan to run away too, huh? Starts a new life in a district with a new name?! This isn't a game or something you can start over when you fuck it up!"

Leila sighs heavily before turning to her group of boys, "Can you give us a minute? Wait for my by the fence." she orders, the three boys shift awkwardly on their two feet for a moment before following her orders, even Dalton who is slightly senior to the other members of his runaway group obeys her. Once we are alone, the footsteps of her followers have become distant and their nasty mumbles become silent, Leila turns to face me with a face like stone, "We're going to District 13." she tells me.

"Thirteen?" I ask, she nods as I shake my head. "District 13 is gone. It was blown off the map."

Leila nods, "Yeah, but eighty-four years ago."

"So? What does how long it's be gone for matter? It's still gone, what are you hoping to find?" I ask.

My best friend shifts awkwardly, looking around at the trees with nervous glances, "We're not sure exactly." she admits.

I scoff, "It's just rubble," I tell her, "We've all seen the footage, they play it every year!"

"That's just it!" Leila exclaims in a low voice, "They've been using the footage here as long as anyone can remember." I try to think back to the footage, I never really paid attention too it because it all looks the same. "You know how they always show the Justice Building?" Leila continues, I nod. "If you look really carefully, you'll see it. Up in the right-hand corner."

"See what?" I snap.

Leila lets her mouth curl into a small smile before poking a finger at me, "A mockingjay. Just a glimpse of it as it flies by. It's the same every year, every time." she says. "It has to be the same footage because the Capitol can't show us what District 13 is really like."

I give a grunt of disbelief, "You're going to trek the entire way to District 13 based on that? A shot of a bird? What you think you're going to find, an entire new city with people walking around? And that's just fine with the Capitol?"

"No, we don't think that." a masculine voice says, both of us turn to see Dalton standing in the tree-line inspecting us, "We think the people moved underground when everything on the surface was destroyed. It makes sense that they would be able too survive and we think the Capitol leaves them alone because, before the Dark Days, District Thirteen's principal industry was nuclear development." he says matter-of-factly.

I shake my head, "No, they were graphite miners." I say.

Dalton shrugs, "They had a few small mine, yes. But not enough to justify a population of that size. That, I guess, is the only thing we know for sure."

My heart is beating too quickly, what if they're right? Can it be true? Somewhere to run other than the water? If a community exists in District 13, it would be better to go there, where I might be able to accomplish something instead of waiting here for my death? I could protect my son. But then... if there are people in District 13, with powerful weapons...

"Why haven't they helped us?" I ask angrily, "If what your saying is true then why do they leave us like this? With the hunger and the killings and the Hunger Games?" And suddenly, I hate this imaginary city under the surface of District 13 and those who sit by, watching us die. There no better than the Capitol.

"We don't know," Leila whispers, "Right now, we're just holding on to the hope that they exist."

That snaps me to my senses. These are delusions. District 13 doesn't exist because the Capitol would never let it exist. They're probably mistaken about the footage, mockingjay's are about as rare as rocks. And about as tough. If they could survive the initial bombing of 13, they're probably doing better than ever now. They must be crazy, even crazier for thinking they could even escape District 4, the fence if electric and high. Leila is becoming a traitor but I am no better in the eyes of President Snow. Dalton asks me to confirm the situation in the other districts but of course I cannot do such a thing, I give them brief notes on what to expect, not mentioning District 8 because they will see for themselves, if they make it that far.

As the sunlight threatens to break over the horizon, I turn my attention from Dalton to Leila, "If you guys are actually planning on doing this, you need to leave now." I tell them. Dalton simply nods and thanks me for my help – despite not giving any – and then I turned myself to Leila whose eyes were teary. "You're really going?" I ask.

Leila nods, "Yes, I'm really going."

"You're crazy."

"I can't live like this anymore, in fear." she tells me.

I understand and pull her into the tightest and most intimate embraces I have given to another person since Michael and Finnick when I saw them after the victory. She doesn't shrug me off, nor does she feel threatened or awkward instead she returns my hug. Her face buried in the nape of my neck. "You're my best friend." she whispers into my skin, her hot breath tingles the hairs.

"And you, mine. Now go, before something happens." I tell her, removing herself from her embrace and gently poking her shoulder urging her to go back through the trees behind her and rejoin with her group. A kiss is planted on my lips, it's friendly with no intention to be any more. And then she lets me go, her cheeks glistening wet in the light of the moon, she squeezes my arm and grin. "Please be careful." I urge her.

Leila grins, "Don't worry, we will. I love you." she tells me.

"Love you too, you freak." I tease. And then she leaves, her hair tied up in a tight bun. At the edge of the thick trees, Leila turns around, giving me one last glance. That was the last look I got of Leila Turner before she actually disappeared through the trees.

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><p><strong>AN:** _How do you feel about Leila's escape and Anastasia helping them. Do you think they'll make it or will they be captured and killed. Give me your opinions on this chapter._


	20. Chapter 20: Special Announcement

Chapter Twenty.

_TWO MONTHS LATER._

****Announcement Of The Very Special Hunger Games.****

"He's healthy." Dr. Madison says with a grin removing my naked son from the scales and placing him back onto the changing unit so I can put on a fresh nappy and baby-grow. Lucas has but on a healthy amount of weight since his incredibly early birth a little over two months ago. Dr. Ford remains in the Capitol as my main doctor out there however I have no use for him being in District 4 therefore all my paperwork was sent over and I was assigned a new doctor fresh out of medical school. Dr Rosemarie Madison was very down to earth in spite of her good looks, natural blonde hair with large blue eyes framed with dark lashes. "Are you watching President Snow's announcement on television tonight?" she asks me as I finish dressing my son and pick him up.

I nod, "I got a very excited phone call from Dieter about it yesterday," I reply, the watching of his so called 'very special' announcement was compulsory for every citizen in Panem to watch therefore I will not that anything President Snow could say would entertain me let alone delight me. "Thank you." I tell her before collecting my book of weight in dates and numbers. The young doctor smiles at me before waving goodbye to Lucas who just gurgles.

Outside the District 4 hospital, a car used for carting fish driven by Louis is waits for us. We climb inside and Lucas sits on my lap for the brief journey back to Victor's Village. Louis tells me what him and his wife, Lucy, are actually talking about children, he says that looking at me with my son makes Lucy ache. Despite being two months old, Lucas has almost a full head of blonde hair that sticks up wildly like hay and with blue eyes in both saddening and glorious matching shade to Cato, he is certainly going to be a handsome little thing.

Once outside Victor's Village, I am greeted by Embry who asks how the hospital check up went but also to question if I had seen Leila anywhere, to which I replied a confident no because technically speaking, I hadn't seen her in two months, not since her and three others made a break for District 13, they made it out of District 4 surprisingly, I'm not entirely sure how they managed it but they did. At night I find myself crying as the realisation that she isn't coming back grips me with firm hands, sometimes my sobs would wake Lucas and his cries would echo over the baby monitor that sat beside my bed. My tight grip I had on protecting my son has loosened a little to the point where I am not so tense when other people come and see him if we are in public and I even allow him to sleep in his own room as long as the door is open for quick entry but President Snow has attempted to take mine or my son's life therefore I assume things must have quietened down in the districts for him to change his mind however I wouldn't know.

Annie has become more of a nanny than a God-Mother which I don't mind but I enjoy being a mother and sometimes I feel Annie thinks she owns that job however she keeps my house relatively clean and offers to do my washing. Finnick tells me its good I am giving her jobs so she can keep her mind off everything happening around her because even the slightest things can set her off, the colour red reminds her of blood which sends her screeching like a terrified child and even water, the one thing she grew up being surrounded by, scares her if she is suddenly submerged or splattered with the liquid. Michael visits often and tells me his house is empty without me and he sometimes occupies Lucas if myself and Annie are both busy but that a rarity and he normally handles my spending, monitoring what I am buying more off and what maybe I should be cutting down on buying which is normally hot chocolate and bread, pregnancy only sparked my interest for strange food but I have put on considerably amount of weight from my victory. Mags knits socks and hats for Lucas which I promise he will wear in the winter however by then he will no doubt be too big for them. And Finnick, well, he continues to batter me for not calling my son Finnick and also gives me good advice on what to spend my victors money on however all I seem to spend my winnings on is food, toys and clothes for Lucas and making sure we have central heating to keep warm in the nippy nights. Finnick insists I buy jewels and accessories but I don't like the idea of owning something like that which I wouldn't find any occasion to wear it too. I only feel comfortable wearing stuff like that is Vibia has designed it.

"What do you think the announcement is going to be about?" Michael asks as I wash up the plates from dinner whilst he bounces little Lucas on his knee making the child gurgle with happiness before coughing and being sick. I laugh as I throw Michael a towel to mop up his nephew's sick.

I shrug, "Not sure, his granddaughter had a child, maybe it's a celebration announcement." I suggest, it was true, President Snow's granddaughter, Claudette, just delivered her first child at the age of twenty-three, of course because she is the president's granddaughter and one of his only living relatives left, a massive celebration was held in her honour in the Capitol and everyone in the districts was given a day off to enjoy the glorious occasion. However, according to Vibia's telephone conversation, half the people in the Capitol were still drowning in the new of Lucas' birth which makes my chest puff out with pride but my shoulder crunch with fear that President Snow might try something to down shine my sons birth but that was weeks ago, he a little late I think personally.

"He'll probably have this years games specially christened in her or her child's name," he chuckles, "What is her daughter's name again?"

Rattling my brain, I chuckle remembering not being able to keep in the laugh as Vibia informed me, "Something stupid like, Nicolette." I reply placing the final dish into the dish washer and setting the timer ready for tonight. The announcement is scheduled for later this evening so I plan to have a bath and wash Lucas before putting his both into night wear, feeding him and then setting him down for the night so I can watch the announcement alone. Michael offered to come and watch it with me but I didn't see the point when it's going to be a pointless couple of minutes anyway therefore I recline his offer nicely.

"I better get going." Michael smiles standing up, still holding my son in his arms. I meet him at the front door where he slips on his shoes before giving me a warm hug, and both my son and me a kiss before going out into the warm air. It was still relatively early in the year, late March time where spring is upon us and the sun comes back out to greet us and the annual Hunger Games creep closer and closer to haunt us however this year I won't be requested to join, well, I will but only too sit on the stage and watch the children get reaped before waving off to whoever is scheduled to mentor this year. I believe it's Mags and myself but due to me having a child I'm not sure if I will be requested to join in this year.

I lock the front door and head upstairs to run a small bath with no oils. I wash Lucas and myself before wrapping him up and taking him into my bedroom laying him down to put a nappy on him before dressing. Then I quickly throw on some fresh underwear and loose fitting clothing before pulling the top section of my hair back and pinning it so it doesn't fall in my face and irritate me. It's getting late and Lucas begins to get irritable so I make up his milk before sitting in his bedroom feeding him. I make sure to burp him before setting him down in his coat and wrapping the blanket around him to keep him safe and warm. The baby monitor on light glows green in the dimly lit room and I take the receiver downstairs, I still have before the announcement therefore I tune into the before entertainment which is Caesar Flickerman, his appearance has changed sadly since the last time I saw him however orange is his new style colour and it's almost as humour to look at than blue or pink. But yet again, annoyingly, Caesar manages to pull off the dazzling suit and flaming hair. He interviews a beautiful young woman with brown hair plaited like Katniss Everdeen did during her games with a wonderful white dress with a blue sash that drapes around her slender waist. You can tell she is Panem royalty by the way she speak and holds herself, no train was needed to help her with this, she has had it from the get go in life.

"You all remember Anastasia, our previous Hunger Games winner who quite recently had a gorgeous baby boy?" Caesar asks, then a small video clip is shown of Lucas' first public appearance, the cameras gobbling up his image with the tears in my eyes that are actually tears of sadness hidden by a fake smile. The crowd clap and cheer as Claudette smiles, I roll my eyes at her reaction and adventure into the kitchen to make a cup of tea whilst still being able to hear it, "Have you received word from his new mother?" he asks with such gusto it's amazing.

_Fuck no, _I replied subconsciously.

I peek through the doorway to absorb Claudette's, she blushes slightly before shaking her head, "I believe that's pay back for myself not sending any congratulations her way when she had her son." the young woman says with embarrassment.

The crowd let out a long chorus of 'oohs' as Caesar shifts uncomfortably. "Maybe you should like to say something to her now, I'm sure she's watching." the interview chuckles looking into the camera with a knowing look that grips me as if he was waiting for me to give my consent on her speaking but the kettle pinging to alert me it's finished grips my attention and all I hear is the Capitol screaming before they abruptly go silent.

"Anastasia," the woman's soft voice sends chills down my spine, "I sincerely hope you forgive me for the lack of congratulations I expressed when I heard new of your son's birth. As a new mother myself I hope everything went well for you," – _yes, incredibly well, I almost bled to death in your dinning hall_, I snap silently at her – "Maybe, one day we could arrange a play date, the children would socialise whilst we chat. Please, do consider it." she then smiles sweetly before the crowd cheer snapping her out of her gaze to turn back to Caesar who hides his expressions rather well beneath the make up and thanks the crowd for watching and to stay tuned for President Snow's very special announcement which is next.

_Stupid bitch,_ I think as their faces disappear from the screen, why the hell would I want my child playing anywhere near you or your twisted great-grandfather. I place my mug on the coffee table and go to make myself comfortable on the sofa when the phone rings, cautiously I stand up and pick up the phone, pressing the phone to my ear.

"Hello?" I ask.

The breathing of the person down the phone was heavily and irritating continuing on for a good minutes before the person actually spoke, identifying itself to be a girl. "I see you and Snow's granddaughter are new buddies." the voice spoke in a low and shallow method trying to sound deeper than originally. Glancing at the dialling pad I look at the calling ID and DISTRICT 7 flashed up across the screen. Seeing as the only female winner from District 7 is Johanna Mason, I am sure it's her.

"Good evening, Johanna." I say with such confidence I shock myself.

There was a stifled gasp, "How the fuck?! Are you psychic?" she asks.

"Yes, I am." I reply with what was hoping a whimsical tone, "And the caller ID is my source of knowledge."

"So you cheated?" Johanna asks.

I shake my head despite her not being able to see me, "Nope, used what I had for help." I chuckle and she returns my laughter, "I assume you were watching the interview?" I ask.

"Yes, bloody boring. Her kid is ugly." Johanna says bluntly.

It was my turn to gasp, "Johanna, you can't say that."

"Why not?"

Shrugging, I glance around, "They might be listening," I whisper.

"Oh no," Johanna teases, "The Capitol spies might be listening into two victors having a laugh on the phone, that's hardly a crime, Ana."

"I guess your right." I reply before the anthem of Panem begins to play in the distance as the symbol of Panem lights up my dark living room. "Looks like we better go." I suggest.

"No! Stay, talk to me! I might die of boredom." Johanna pleads like a small child.

I sign, considering strongly staying on the line to Johanna but then again, what if this does end up being something important and I cannot concentrate with her yapping in my ear. "How about I'll call you back after the announcement has finished?" I suggest.

"Fine, but you better call." she replies sharply.

"I will, I –" but it's too late, the dial tone is all that greets the end of my sentence. Putting the phone back onto the wall, I retake my place in front of the screen comfortably laid on the sofa with my blanket. As the Panem symbol disappears, the anthem continues to play as President Snow wonders onto the stage which is now empty of his granddaughter, her child and Caesar. A podium stands center stage at the front, close enough for the front row to throw roses over the stand. President Snow holds a selection of card in his right hand as he waves with his left. When the anthem ends, Snow begins to speak reminding us all of the Dark Days from which the Hunger Games were born. He speaks of the rules and how the games marked the rebellions in the districts. His words could not be more pointed, since I suspect several of the districts are rebelling right now, they must be for him to make this speech about the rules, but then he pauses and removes a sealed envelope from his blazer pocket. He smooths it out before slipping his finger beneath the flap to rip it open neatly.

"In the light of the recent glorious events of the birth of my great-granddaughter, Head Gamemaker Plutarch Heavensbee and I have decided to use the up coming Hunger Games as a celebration of her birth and life ahead." the president says, the crowd cheers in response. "Therefore, too keep fresh for her generation and also as a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol." again, the moronic crowd clap, "It has been decided that for this Eighty-fifth Hunger Games, the male and female tributes are to be reaped from the existing pool of victors from each district."

I give a faint choke as my mind tries to register what he has just said because suddenly I feel like the people I see in the audience on television. Slightly baffled but as my breathing hitches and my eyes begin to water. Existing pool of victors? Despite being several houses away, Annie Cresta's screech doesn't fall on deaf ears. Then it clicks what he means, this was the president's way of trying to wipe me clean from his planet and covering my death with the games. I was to be re-reaped on stage in front of the nation. I might be going back into the arena.

Suddenly, my cup is released from my hands with a powerful throw sending pieces of pottery scattering across the floor as tea decorates the wall in a splash effect. President Snow continues on in the background but I have gone mad with throwing items that break across my living room watching them smash. "These victors will present themselves on reaping day regardless of age, health or personal situation." the vile man speaks with such a tone it sounds neutral. The phone begins to ring and I assume it's Johanna seeing how I am handling the news but I don't want to talk to anyone.

"Anastasia! Let me in!" a masculine voice calls from outside my door followed by several loud bangs on my wooden door that I suddenly become worried I will wake Lucas but I haven't heard him cry over the baby monitor so I assume he is still sleeping. However my smashing object hasn't subdued the hysteria rising up inside me, it will drown me unless it's released. I collapse onto my knees before balling up the blanket in front of my mouth and begin to scream. How long this continues on for I am not sure however I don't stop until my voice has gone but by then, the front door has been kicked open and my brother enters with a man dressed in a white Peacekeeper uniform. No doubt it's Embry.

How could this happen? I could be going back into the arena, going back to the place of my nightmares. The torture. The pain and loss. I have to admit I didn't see it coming. I saw multiple other things such as being publicly humiliated, tortured and then executed and even having to watch Lucas be sent to reaping. But that I myself would have to be a player in the Games again. Why? Because there's no precedent for it. Victors are out of the reapings for life. That's the deal if you win. Until now.

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><p><strong>AN:**_ I thought I would upload this chapter early because no one had commented on my previous chapter so I thought I would give you all a rather hideous and shocking surprise. There is a one out of three chance Anastasia will be going back in the arena. What did you guys think about this chapter? What is your opinion on how President Snow managed to wiggle into getting a victors game? review!_


	21. Chapter 21: From Hero To Zero

Chapter Twenty-One.

**When a Victor becomes a Tribute.**

I awake with a startle, actually it would be a lie if I led you to believe I had actually been able to sleep. However as Lucas is still asleep I take this opportunity to have a shower. The hot liquid washes over my body, soothing and relaxing my tense muscles. From the collection of soaps given to me as a gift from the Capitol when I first moved into Victor's Village, I thoroughly wash my body and hair which as grown to the base of my skull flicking wildly when left untreated to dry but I didn't care. From my selection of clothing in my draws, I pick out a well made jumpsuit from the Capitol that looked like it was two separate items of clothing. As a top is a baggy white shirt with buttons from the belly button upwards connected to tight black bottoms that clung to my body like a second skin, hanging from my hips is a brown belt and to hide my arms, I put on a equally as baggy knitted blue cardigan. To keep my face accessible to the cameras, I pin back my hair using a black headband.

Then I take my baby monitor from the side of my bed and adventure to the study to sit behind the desk with a paper in front of me and a pen in my hand. I was going to write a letter, I had drafted it but this was going to be the real letter. It was for Lucas, I wanted to explain everything to him if the worst should happen today at the reaping. Annie Cresta is in a pretty bad state after the announcement, Finnick has been forcing her to eat and drink whilst she continues to stare for hours at the same spot in their living room wall. The mention of Lucas manages to bring her from the trance and I agreed to allow her to hold my son for the last time as long as she swore on her life that if I was reaped, she would help Michael with Lucas' upbringing. Of course, Annie agrees.

A faint knock on my front door grips my attention firmly as I finish writing my sons name on the front of the envelope. The front door opens without me answering and my brother steps in wearing a very nice and suitable outfit for the reaping. I collected a pair of black boots from my shoe cupboard beneath the stars before taking a seat at the kitchen table, opposite my elder brother. It was crazy to think this could be the last time I see him. Michael could be reaped today. If I lost him, I would become mad.

"Michael, I –"

"Don't," he interrupted sharply, "Nothing bad is going to happen so don't you dare even think about saying any kind of goodbye to me." he tells me firmly.

I chuckle lightly mixed with awkwardness, "I was going to say I'm sorry. If it wasn't for me and Cato, this wouldn't be happening to us right now."

"Sure it would," Michael replies, "President Snow had to get rid of some of us eventually. It must be expensive paying for us to live."

"The bastard deserves to go bankrupt." I reply angrily.

Michael raises his eyebrows, "That he does, but then how would you provide for yourself and Lucas?" he asks.

I shrug, "I'd work."

"As what?"

"A babysitter."

My brother laughs, "Yeah right, you cannot stand other people, I'd feel sorry for the children." he jokes.

"Does that mean you feel sorry for Lucas?" I ask.

He shakes his head, "No, you're fantastic. And after the reaping, you'll be able to continue being the great mother you are."

"I hope so," I reply with a sign, "But if I don't –"

"Don't say that!" Michael snaps viciously.

I growl, raising my hand to calm down, "_But_, if I don't, I've written a letter for him and it's upstairs in the top draw on the left hand side of the desk. I want you to make sure he gets it when he turn twelve." I tell my brother who nods. "Promise me."

He nods, "I promise." he swears before glancing at his watch before standing up from his chair and pushing it beneath the tabletop. ""I better get going, Embry will be here soon to gather us up. I'll see you soon." he says before kissing the top of my head and heading out leaving me sat at the dinner table.

**xxx**

Half an hour skips passed, Dr. Madison had agreed to look after Lucas until I returned. If I returned. As I was adjusting my items of clothing and pinning my mockingjay pin onto my cardigan, a knock at the door echoed through the empty home. Holding my son I opened the door to see Embry standing there in full Peacekeeper uniform with a baton laced around his waist. His dark skinned looked florescent against the white of his clothing. He gives me a faint smile before gesturing with his head for me to exit the home. I nod and sign heavily before calling down Dr. Madison, I give my son a big kiss on the lips before hugging him close to my chest I can feel his heartbeat against my ribcage. "I love you baby." I tell him before handing over the gurgling child to the doctor's waiting arms before stepping outside.

In the street between the houses in Victor's Village, I see Annie clinging onto Finnick's arm as if her life depended on it completely with Michael stood motionless and expressionless beside them. It was Mags who sensed the nerves that clutched my body and took my hand as the Peacekeeper's surround us in a protective and imprisoning feeling. There was six in total, Embry at the front and a second at the back with two either side. And from the streets of the village, we are marched through the streets of District 4 on the most direct route to inside the Justice building where people who wanted to attend had piled in. Peacekeeper's are armed with guns on top of buildings and as we are marched through the middle of the crowd we are led into to the marble pillar room with a marble created stage, I notice a couple more armed Peacekeeper's.

Dieter Rollo is smartly dressed standing at the front of the stage near the microphone between two fish bowls barely filled with named pieces of paper. Two in the male bowl and three in the female. Dieter's painted blue fingernails claw at the pieces of paper in the males bowl. He slides the paper flat in his palm, his face is tense and awkward as he steps to the microphone taking an incredibly deep breath.

"The male tribute from District 4 is –" he says before breathing in deeply, "Finnick Odair."

Annie lets out a wail from beside me, I grip her hand painfully as I watch Finnick Odair hug my brother before taking his place beside Dieter at the microphone. I will not cry. I will not cry. Finnick waves to the cameras as the crowd claps and cheers, the young mentor smiles his normal dashing smile. But Michael is safe, he's safe that's what truly matters. Mags squeezes my right hand as we watch our ex-escort adventure over to our reaping bowl holding only three pieces of paper. Dieter picks out a piece of beautiful Capitol paper, he steps over to the microphone.

"The female tribute from District 4 is –" Dieter's voice is shaking slightly but in true escort ability, he manages to cover that extremely well. The crowd draws in a collective breath as they prepare to see what victor is going to be sent into the arena. Violent nausea hits my stomach and suddenly I am so desperately hoping that is isn't me. That's not me. That isn't me on that piece of paper. Dieter Rollo smooths the slip of paper and reads out the name in a clear voice. And it's not me.

It's Annie Cresta.

My stomach contracts as my chest tights making everything difficult to breath. Annie begins to wail violently and in a protective way, I shield her from the cameras with my arms as she muffles her cries into my clothing. I can see Peacekeeper's beginning to mount the stage to remove her from my grip. No, Annie cannot go into the arena, the insanity will kill her alone. And going in with Finnick. No, this is wrong. This reminds me of myself and Cato. This isn't far!

And that is when I speak in a shallow voice, loud enough for people close to hear. "I volunteer." I whisper.

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><p><strong>AN:** _Yes, that just happened and I'm sorry, Anastasia just volunteered to take Annie's place. Before you get to annoyed by this, just think a little further than the current impact Anastasia volunteering will have, granted she will be parted from her son forever if she is to perish but she is granting him the ability to live a little longer as President Snow will no longer see the child nor the uprising as a threat if the beacon of hope is destroyed. Anyway, please review!_

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><p><em>P.S. I will also put the letter Anastasia wrote to Lucas at the end if you guys are interesting in reading it.<em>


	22. Chapter 22: The Volunteer

Chapter Twenty-Two.

**The Volunteer.**

There is silence on the stage. The Peacekeepers have paused and the entire crowd as silenced as they try to catch onto what I had said. Thankfully, the microphone only works within a small distance therefore no one but Annie, Mags and the Peacekeeper's surrounding us hear my whisper. From beside me, Mags grips my arm firmly but I don't turn to face her knowing that if I do she will attempt to change my mind but I have already volunteered.

"You're volunteering?" Embry asked, his lips graze my earlobe unintentionally as he attempts to talk without anyone else hearing in. Annie Cresta is still clutched in my arms, crying and mumbling things into the nape of my neck, she shakes so violently that even if I wanted to, I couldn't take my decision back.

I look up from the wild jungle of Annie's ginger hair, "Yes, I'm in place of Annie." I speak clearly and loudly so everyone can hear me. Michael grapples against the Peacekeeper's arms but by order from Embry, my elder brother is allowed to approach me.

"What are you doing?" he asks firmly gripping my shoulders.

My face wrinkles with confidence, I wasn't afraid, it was a strange feeling of not being terrified. "Saving her life and ensuring that Lucas and you will be safe." I reply sharply. It was true, if I volunteer and die in that arena in a weeks time, that means that whatever symbol of a rebellion I hold, be it a mockingjay or a leader will die with me. Extinguishing the spark I created at the end of my Hunger Games and during my Victory Tour.

Michael's grip suddenly becomes painful, "You can't do this."

"You can't stop me." I reply. Annie looks up at me and I hug her tightly before bringing both of them in for a quick cuddle but really I need to speak to them in a quiet manor, "Keep Lucas safe. And I love you." I whisper to them before Embry takes fake action and takes my arm in a gentle way before locating me over to the opposite side of Dieter.

"Ladies and Gentlemen. Your tributes from District 4: Finnick Odair and Anastasia Hollern." Dieter tells the crowd with a steady voice. Finnick wraps his arms around my body and kisses my temple tenderly. Several person in the crowd raises their three-fingers on their left hands into the air, it's a surprise but Finnick doesn't hesitate to copy the action, followed by myself and the rest of the victors-turned-tributes.

Michael doesn't look proud of my decision but I seriously doubt that he doesn't see through my idea in case he would have acted far more rationally. The Peacekeeper's then march myself and Finnick – hand in hand – into the Justice Building, not into segregation but completely through and out the back doors. Embry informs us this is a 'new procedure' which means there is no hour to say our goodbyes to anyone. Finnick won't get to speak to Annie before he leaves for the Capitol. I won't get to say a real goodbye to my son or my brother.

We are ushered out the back door and into a car which takes us to the train station where there are no cameras on the platform, no crowd to send us on our way. Mags and Dieter appear, escorted by guards. Peacekeeper's hurry us all on to the train and slam the door. The wheels begin to turn and I am left staring out of the window, watching District 4 disappear with all my goodbyes still hanging on my lips.

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><p><strong>AN:** _That's the End of Part I and I really hope you have enjoyed it but next is there preparations for the Games. Review this chapter and I hope you will mark this as a favourite or follow so you can follow on with Part II. See you in a few days or weeks._


	23. Chapter 23: Back To The Capitol

Chapter Twenty-Three.

**PART II: THE ONCE GREAT VICTORS.**

**Back To The Capitol.**

I remain motionless, staring out of the window watching the water, swallowing up the last glimpses of home. This time I don't have even the slightest hope of returning back to the beauty. Before my first Games, I promised Leila, Louis and Michael that I would do anything to could to win and now I have realised that dying in the arena to guarantee a longer life for my son, isn't so bad. I will never revisit this journey again. To think I had actually figured out what I wanted to say to each one of them: Mags, Finnick, Annie and Michael. How best to close and lock the doors and leave them sad but safety behind. And now the Capitol has stolen that as well.

"It's okay, Anastasia, you can write letters," says Dieter from behind me, "It will be better, anyway. Give them a piece of you to hold on to. Mags can deliver them for you if... they need to be delivered."

I give him a single nod and go straight to my chambers. I sit on my bed knowing that I will never be able to write those letters. Lucas' was easy because everything was simple to explain and express my love but to my brother and the rest of my family, it'll be difficult because they know me. Things seemed clear in my head but as soon as my pen makes contact with the paper, it all goes downhill. Besides, they were meant to go with embraces and kisses. A stroke of my sons cheek and a squeeze of Michael's hand. These gestures cannot be delivered with a wooden box containing my cold, stiff body.

Too angry to cry or sleep and all I want to do is smash up my bedroom like I had my living room the night President Snow announced the special nature of these games but I know that won't help anything. Instead I vow that I won't give up hope of not returning, my body has become hollow and filled with nothingness, I will not roll over in these games, I will fight to protect myself, killing me won't cross the minds of the other victors in this years games which means that I shouldn't feel guilty about not caring. I won't be able to do that if I'm mourning for everyone I love back home. _Let them go, _I tell myself, _it's better this way, let them go. _I do my best, thinking of them one by one, releasing them like birds from the protective cages inside me before locking the doors against their return.

By the time Dieter knocks on my door to call me to dinner, I am almost empty of emotion. But the light that my escort provides isn't entirely unwelcome. The meal is subdued, so much so that there are long periods of silence relieved only by the removed of old dishes and presentations of new ones. A warm soup with vegetables. Fish cakes with creamy peach paste. Those little birds I remember from the Capitol party with mint gravy inside with wild rice and watercress. Chocolate cake with cherries and a creamy custard. I notice that throughout the meal Finnick and Dieter have brief attempts at a conversation that quickly die out.

"I love your new hair, Dieter." I say, it really had only come to my attention that Dieter had dyed his hair a glistening gold with added sparkles of silver and blue to add to the perfect shine. The escort wears a lovely gold suit to complete the outfit.

Dieter smiles, "Thank you. I got it done especially to match your pin. I had a thought that we might get you another gift, considering the other one is a bit worn now. Like an ankle bracelet or something! And maybe get you, Finnick, a golden bracelet." he suggests.

Finnick raises his eyebrows, "Why?"

"So we look like a team." says Dieter defensively.

Wincing at the idea I continue eating, Dieter doesn't know that my mockingjay pin is now a symbol used by the rebellion. At least in District 8. In the Capitol, the mockingjay is still a fun reminder of an especially exciting Hunger Games. What else could it be? Real rebels don't put a secret symbol on something as durable as jewellery or a tattoo. They use it cleverly, such as on a piece of bread that can be eaten in a second if necessary.

"I think it's a great idea," I reply happily, come on, who doesn't like Capitol made jewellery. It's beautiful despite the hideous place they are made. And I might as well enjoy the next week as after all, I may never see the outside of the arena again. "What you think Finnick?" I ask.

Finnick shrugs, "Yeah, whatever." As he slips his orange juice I can tell he wants to be something stronger. Mags laughs from beside me and gestures to Dieter's head and then turns to Finnick's before rubbing her hands in her hair.

"Good idea, Mags." I chuckle, "Maybe we should dye your hair like Dieters."

Finnick Odair shoots me an unimpressed glance before shaking his head idly which tells me to leave him alone and we all eat our pudding in silence. Once we had finished and an Avox had cleaned our plates away, Finnick stands up and says, "Shall we go and watch the recaps of the reapings?" he asks swiping a new bottle of wine from the wine rack and two glasses. Mags and Dieter agree to stay in the dinning cart whilst myself and my district partner gather into the end compartment with the television to see who our competition will be in the arena. We are sat holding a glass of sparking wine liquid when the anthem begins to play and the annual recap of the reaping ceremonies in the twelve districts begin.

In the history of the Games, we have had eight-four victors. Seventy are still alive. I recognised many of their faces, either from seeing them as tributes or mentors at previous Games or from the the Victory Tour. Some are so old or wasted by illness, drugs or drinking that I can't place them. As I suspect, the reaping bowls of the Career tributes from District 1 and 2 are the biggest. But every district has managed to scrape up at least one female and one male victor.

The reapings go by quickly, inside my mind, I keep tabs on the dangerous ones. Finnick stares stone faced at the screen as he watches his friends being reaped to stand on stage once again. Despite keep a focused eye on keeping a mental pad of notes inside my head, like last year only a few stand out in my mind. There is a incredibly beautiful brother and sister from District 1 who were victors on consecutive years named Gloss and Cashmere. Brutus from District 2 who volunteer and apparently couldn't wait to get back into the arena with Enobaria, when her name was called, she snarled and hissed showing off her teeth and my throat suddenly clamped shut at the thought of her fangs sinking into the sensitive skin. The four tributes created this years Career Pack. From District 3 are a strange looking set of picked victors, both with the most less threatening aura's about them, the male is named Beetee and the female Wiress. Finnick informed me that despite the pair not looking deadly, Beetee won his Games by electrocuting six tributes at once.

And then Finnick is called. My brother doesn't volunteer which cannot surprise Finnick because the young men embrace anyway before Finnick humbly takes his place beside Dieter waving and smiling to the crowd. The camera which is trained on the stage remains focused on the entire image as another camera flickers over to the girls side of the stage where I am stood, tensed up, in the middle of Mags and Annie. Of course when Annie Cresta's name is called, the video shows me wrapping my arms around Annie as she cries hysterically. Then I volunteer.

Then there is Johanna Mason who makes me grin when she doesn't even give her escort the chance to call out her name before she has stormed forwards, snatching the piece of paper herself before shoving the escort aside and then shouted into the crowd, "GEE, I WONDER WHO THE FUCK IT COULD BE!?" she flattens out the paper to see her name, "HOLY SHIT, IT'S ME! I'M SO SHOCKED!" And then the Peacekeeper's have to drag her away from the microphone and into the Justice Building behind.

I watch in shock horror as from District 8 a woman named Cecelia is called who looks around forty and has to be detached from three children who run up to cling onto her. Chaff, a man from District 11 who I met whilst on my Victory Tour. And then it's time for the District 12 reaping, Willow Combe is of course reaped being the only female victor from that particular district and then so is Peeta Mellark. Haymitch doesn't volunteer to take his place, instead he remains silent and still.

One of the announcers actually looks sad. Then she smiles happily before betting that "These will be the best Games ever!"

Filled with anger, I gulp down the last of the drink in my glass completely forgetting that was like my fifth glass and my head was feeling cloudy, I leave the compartment without saying a word. Not being able to handle the comments Dieter will make about the other tributes if we are to return to the dinning carriage. I head to my bedroom and plunk myself down on the bed unaware if I am going to get sleep tonight, there is only a two hours max before we reach the Capitol so instead I continuously drink water to try and flush away the uneven feeling that snatched my body. However during my semi-drunken state, I begin to get tearful as I remember that the last time I laid in that bed I was pregnant with my son. His little feet kicking me, informing me he is okay. Lucas would be sleeping now, no doubt in Annie's arms inside my house with Michael sat on the sofa staring into a mug of black coffee. I volunteered to leave them. Why? Was it really so I could save them or was it subconsciously because I couldn't take the guilt of my murders yet I was more than prepared to kill in these Games.

Splashing water onto my face to wash away the tear streaks and the door that leads into my chambers slides open allowing a figure to step in. I dry my face and exit the bathroom to see Dieter standing in silence with his fingers locked together and as the train stops I realise exactly what he was sent to tell me. I simply nod at him before he steps aside allowing me to pass, with ease I find Finnick who smiles at me. And as we stand before the doors, ready to face the circus of cameras and reports along with Capitol citizens, surprisingly I feel Finnick Odair's slender fingers grazing across mine, without looking across to him, I allow my fingers to gently hook back until we are holding hands tenderly. Not in a romantic way but securely. Happily but most importantly, it's protective.

"Don't let go." I mumble to him.

Finnick shakes his head, "Never."

Then the door that serves as both an entrance and an exit to the trains interior opens. Finnick remain holding hands solidly as we allow the cameras to gobble up our image. Finnick smiles happily beside me where as I remain stone faced but soon I find it unbearable and allow the right hand side of my mouth to curl upwards and my head to tilt forwards so my eyes are darkened by staring through my lashes. I am certain it looks better than smiling sweetly or remaining stone faced. I might as well attempt to be scary.

Dieter touches my lower back silently telling me to move forwards, Finnick allows me to take the lead with his hand in my mine and I can feel the cameras take that gesture the wrong way but from the way Finnick remains holding on I know he doesn't mind and he is using this to draw in the audience. Granted, it's a brilliant idea and to tease the audience will hopefully pull them in a little more to sponsor us. We battle through the cameras to bundle into the waiting car which will take us through the streets to the Remake Centre where I will be reunited with my prep-team who I have actually missed however being pulled about I most certainly didn't miss.

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><p><strong>AN:** _Hi, I'm back. Well, that's the first chapter to part 2. How do you guys feel about this chapter and do you like it or not? And do you guys feel that something odd is happening between Finnick and Anastasia, the two victors have known each other for years now and have a secure relationship but what do you think about the hand holding. Innocent or could it lead to more? Review!_


	24. Chapter 24: Transformation

Chapter Twenty-Four.

**From A Princess To A Queen**

I was prepared to undergo the hair waxing and tugs and pulls however I could never have prepared myself for the emotional ordeal that awaits me. At some point during the prep work with Coren and Shazza, each of them have burst into tears at least twice however Coren seems to have a continuous whimper throughout the morning. Turns out they have become attached to me and the idea of me volunteering to go back into the arena has undone them. As Coren removes hair from my legs, eyebrows and private places he comments, no nastily, about my scar from my C-section. Shazza goes on to inform me about the people of the Capitol not liking the idea of the victors having to fight, however I am certain that will all be forgotten once the song sounds but it's something of a revelation that those in the Capitol feel anything at all about us. They certainly don't have a problem with watching children being murdered every year. Maybe they know too much about the victors, especially the ones who've been celebrities for ages, to forget we're human beings. It's more like watching your own friends die. More like the Games are for those of us back in the districts.

By the time I'm allowed to leave and see Vibia, I am irritable and exhausted from comforting my prep-team with their constant tears reminding me of the ones undoubtedly being shed at home. Inside the room that is ghostly familiar to me, I remain silently in my thin robe with my stinging skin and heart, I am not sure if I can bear one more look of regret so the moment she walks into the room, I snap, "I swear, if you cry, I will kill you here and now."

Vibia just smiles, "Had a damp morning?"

"You could probably wring their tears out of my skin." I reply.

She chuckles and puts her arms around my shoulders and leads me into a more ghostly familiar lunch room, "Don't worry. I always channel my emotions into my work. That way I don't hurt anyone but myself."

"I refuse to go through that again." I warn her.

"Well then, I will talk to them." says Vibia.

Lunch makes me feel a little better. Pleasant with a selection of jewel-coloured jellies and tiny versions of real vegetables swimming in butter and potatoes mashed with parsnips. For desert we impale pieces of fruit into metal sticks before dunking them in melted chocolate.

"So, what am I wearing for the opening ceremony?" I finally ask as I run my finger along the inner rim of the empty chocolate pot scraping any traces of the delicious sweet out from the bowl. "Fishermen or royalty?" I know that the chariot ride for the Tribute Parade will require myself and Finnick to be dressed in something sea related. "Will it be like last year?" I ask, last year myself and Garrett were dressed up as the God and Goddess of the sea.

Vibia tuts, "No, last year you were a princess. You've been crowned. This year, you're a queen."

Nerves prickle my skin when it's time to get into my costume for the Tribute Parade, my prep-team shows up but Vibia sends them away saying they have done such a spectacular job in the morning there's nothing left to do. They go off to recover thankfully leaving me in the hands of Vibia as she styles my hair using a clip made from jewels in the style of waves to pin back my over grown side fringe and gelling the other side flat. Then she proceeds with my make-up. Last year she used little so that the audience would recognised me when I landed in the arena but now my face is almost obscured by the dramatic highlights and gentle shadows. High arched eyebrows with sharp cheek bones and blue eyes with crimson lipstick. The costume looks like a normal blue sequin maxi dress but when I slip it on I realise it's skin tight with a slit in the side that stops just below my hip giving the entire crowd full view of my left leg. The long sleeves of this dress are made from blue lace and the cape that hangs off my shoulders and drapes across the floor is designed to look like the ocean waves and then ever I moved it looked like the waves where actually moving.

Vibia pulls back to study me, "It's missing something." she mumbles to herself, before clicking her fingers and prancing off somewhere, I stand there for a moment literally terrified to look in the mirror but when she returns, her hands are hidden behind her back and she doesn't remove her hands from behind her back until I have been placed in front of the mirror. And then, To add to the idea of the queen, Vibia places on my head, a wave crown I wore from my first parade but it was different, the waves larger and more exaggerated. "Now you're a queen." she tells me.

Then I take a long look in the mirror and the reflection that greeted me wasn't a girl nor was it a woman but an unearthly being who looks like she might make her way home by killing all those who stand in her way with charm and beauty. I was as deadly than water itself. Water is powerful being able to power its way through earth, put out fire and even destroy iron. The entire outfit simply screamed "_death can be beautiful._"

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><p><strong>AN:** _What do you think of Anastasia's outfit? Review!_


	25. Chapter 25: The Victor Parade

Chapter Twenty-Five.

**The Victor Parade.**

"What do you think?" Vibia questions after it becomes apparent I have been staring at myself for a little longer than deemed necessary which leads my stylist to think I am not satisfied with her work.

"I think... this is just the outfit I needed to face the others." I say.

Vibia nods, "Yes, I believe your days of sashes and nude lipstick are behind you." She gently sorts out my cape being sure to hold it in a bundle as she prepares to move me. "When you're on that chariot this time. No waving or smiling. I just want you to look straight ahead, as if the entire audience is beneath you." she instructs.

I laugh, "Finally, something that should be easy."

Whilst we are waiting for the elevator, Coren dashes towards us informing Vibia that they need her. She agrees to help and leaves Coren in charge of holding my cape whilst we adventure down to the ground floor of the Remake Centre which serves as a huge gathering place for the other tributes and their chariots before the opening ceremony. Unlike last year, when all the tributes were practically glued to their chariots, the scene is very social. The victors, this years tributes and their mentors, are standing around talking in small groups because of course they all know each other from previous games. I don't know anyone, well apart from the victors of whom I had incredibly brief conversation with at the dinners in their districts, however I am not the sort of person to walk around introducing myself to victors I didn't meet, nor did I feel comfortable going up to the victors I had met and speaking knowing that this very special game idea was partly my fault.

I am kind of hoping to see Dieter or Mags but they haven't arrived yet however Finnick Odair was stood in his costume with another person. Slowly, I adventure over to him and the tribute he is speaking too melts away from him allowing me to have time with my district partner. As his famous sea-green eyes connect with mine, he gives me a seductive smile and pops a sugar cube between his teeth holding it there for a second before engulfing it in his mouth with a smile. "Well, you look both beautiful and rather terrifying in that getup." he chuckles taking a long look at me. I can only grin in return as he offers me a sugar cube, seeing there is no harm I take the cube from the box he holds in his right hand, allowing my eyes to skim across Finnick's outfit. It is completely the opposite to mine, there is no familiarisation between them. From the waist upwards, he is naked revealing every edge of perfectly toned muscle and shadow of bronze skin which would make most woman weak at the knees and from the waist down, he is wearing a golden fishnet with a black belt to keep the garment up.

"I can only suppose our stylists thought matching outfits wasn't such a cool idea this year," I say light-heartedly. Coren then whispers in my ear and tells me he is going off to speak to a member of the District 6 prep-team, I nod telling him that's fine and then he drops the cape to the ground. Finnick's eyes widen as he watches the wondrous cape come to life like the sea in amazement. "It's pretty cool huh?" I chuckle before walking towards him.

"Very," Finnick smiles before moving in so closely beside me, I almost feel threatened but I fear that if I move away, he will label me as a wuss. "Listen Ana, between now and the Games, we need to figure out who we want as allies but first of all, we need to figure out where everyone else stands. For example, the District 12 victors are pure, especially the girl, I can play off that."

"For your own enjoyment?" I question.

Finnick chuckles, "Close enough."

Rolling my eyes, I feel Finnick's breath against my neck for one last time before he wonders off confidently towards the last chariot in the line up. Not wanting to watch a girl melt beneath the charm of Mr Odair, I stay with my chariot and stroke the long neck of one of the front two horses and try not to be noticed.

It doesn't work.

The crackling of fire hits my ears before I even know he's beside me and when I turn my head, Peeta Mellark's blue eyes are staring at me only centimetres from mine. I have only come to realise how good looking this male is, with ash blonde hair and pale skin. Peeta wore a black jumpsuit that covers him from the neck down with no arms, over the top half he wore a sleeveless over top that buttoned up from top to bottom, showing off his bare arms. I look at him, fascinated, as he ensemble slowly comes to life, first with a soft orange light but gradually transforming to the orange-red glowing embers. The colours rise and fall, shift and blend, in exactly the way the coals do.

"Hello, Peeta." I say casually, as if we have known each other for years, when in fact we have only met once previously although I'm feeling slightly uncomfortable by his closeness but then I remember back to what Finnick spoke of moments before. We are all trying to figure out where the others stand. "_The District 12 pair are pure, I can play off that." _Finnick's voice echoes in my head as Peeta Mellark grin at me.

"Hello, Anastasia." Peeta says back.

Peeta Mellark isn't a major threat. During his time in before the arena he expressed his love for his district partner, Katniss Everdeen. When they were thrown into the arena, Peeta joined the Careers because they believed he could lead them to Katniss who out shown them in their private training sessions and during the Tribute Parade. His innocence and ability to show emotion, the Capitol has been drooling over him like they had Finnick, however unlike Finnick, they didn't have to wait to get a hold of Peeta, he was sixteen and ready to go. I suspect he does his business during the Games like Michael had, leaving to keep someone company, be it be old or young, lovely or plain, rich or very rich, male or female, he will keep them company and take their extravagant gifts but he never stays, and once he's gone, he never comes back. I cannot argue that Peeta Mellark isn't one of the most beautiful people on the planet but like Finnick, I can honestly say he has never been heart-racing to me. Maybe because of the innocence he oozes or because he is too pretty to be true.

"I would love to borrow you outfit sometime." I chuckle taking a long gaze to make him feel awkward or on show but the other victor shuffles a little like a dance making the flame move with his body movements making me chuckle whilst he takes a good look at my outfit in return making my skin tingle ever so slightly.

Peeta smiles and jokes, "Well, I cannot tell if I'm terrified or entranced by your outfit." I smile, gentle moving so my cape moves like the ocean waves. Peeta's blue eyes look at my outfit before clicking his fingers like he is trying to figure out what is different, "If I remember correctly, your outfit last year resembled a princess and now, you're a queen." he smiles like he had cracked the code, "Cleaver."

"Very," I agree before glancing back at Finnick who is staring deeply into Willow's eyes as she looks more and more nervous and uncomfortable. There is an uncontrollable grin growing on my face as I look at Peeta whose face clouds with anger, "I think you better go and save your district partner, Mr Mellark." I say stepping forwards so we are nothing more than centimetres apart, "You know, before she melts into a puddle." I whisper.

Peeta Mellark lets out a discreet huff before nodding faintly, "Yes, I think that would be best. I'll see you in training, your Majesty." he teases lightly before stalking off passed me and towards our district partners, it's hard to believe one of his legs is a fake, he lost it during his Games. I watch as Finnick catches a glimpse of Peeta and bids goodbye to Willow but not before kissing her cheek gentle, giving a slightly head bob to to Peeta before sauntering off back to me who cannot contain a grin.

"What did you say to her?" I ask Finnick as he pops another sugar cube into his mouth. "She looked like a ice cube melting under the sun."

He grins, "I offered her a sugar cube and then asked to know all her secrets." he says in his best seductive voice.

Laughing, I pull back from the closeness, "That's brilliant." I reply.

"What did Peeta Mellark want?" Finnick asks.

I turn to look at before putting myself so close to Finnick the hairs on our arms touched without any skin interaction, "We shared compliments about outfits and how much we wanted to borrow them from each other." I chuckle.

Finnick laughs in return, "Very well done. I think you should join me on the teasing of the District 12 pair."

Honestly, I would love too because it was rather fun, the idea that I, a small seventeen year old girl with a little over two month old son can make someone feel uncomfortable, is rather ego boosting. But then I felt rather cruel about it because I certainly wouldn't enjoy being victimized in my last week of living but then, it is only my last week and if I deny myself the simply things that make me feel good. And like Katniss Everdeen, who was considered a little bit of a prude, Willow refused to bare any unnecessary skin or look at any. And then I wonder if I had been allow to be a victor for slightly longer if I had become like Finnick or the other tributes?

A prostitute or paranoid or insane.

"Tributes, mount your chariots." an announcer speaks over the speakers loudly. Coren suddenly reappears and holds my cape and Finnick helps me up the large step onto the transportation platform behind the four horses, Finnick stands beside me showing no nerves whatsoever about the event that is about to unfold in front of us. I grip the handle bar beside me for extra support as I turn to look at Finnick, the same green eyes morphed into the same eyes as Garrett Larkin. The face and body of Finnick Odair melts away into my previous district partner, his outfit remains the same allowing the light to bounce from his hairless chest and muscularly arms. His gently tanned face smiling comfortingly at me like an old friend.

"Are you okay?" he asks me as I stare at him.

I turn away to face forwards, flustered and confused. "I'm fine, Garrett." I reply before I realise the wrong name has slipped through my lips.

"What?" Finnick asks, I couldn't figure out on what emotion or feeling laced his voice. And when I turn to look at my ex-mentor and now district partner, he actually looks rather hurt by the accidental name use.

"Oh God, I'm sorry Finnick. Everything just reminded me of the chariot ride last year." I apologised.

Finnick's eyes remained settled on mine for a brief moment, I am certain he is mad at me but when he glances down at my bare hand for a moment before slipping his soft fingers between mine in the same manor he had on the train, I know he isn't mad but maybe hurt however he doesn't speak and simply holds my hand and stares forwards. I second his actions. Vibia and Finnick's stylist Tiberius – who was in charge of Garrett Larkin's public appearance outfits – came to remind of the no smiling or waving rule before doing last second touch up on our outfits and hair before the same opening music from last year plays and the massive doors of the stable slide open revealing the much more elaborately decorated streets of the Capitol. District 1 is pulled out immediately, up a small hill and into the waiting eyes of the cameras and public, the crowd almost self-destructs with screams and shouts that shake the foundations of the Remake Centre. The same ghostly familiar routine as last year remains in place and within fifteen seconds, myself and Finnick chariot moves without command out the stable doors and into the light of he Capitol.

The voice of the crowd rises into one universal scream as we roll out but neither one of us reacts. I simply fix my eyes on the same point of the female tribute in the distance in front of us and pretend there is no audience, no hysteria and completely ignoring the calls of my name. I can't help but catch glimpses of myself on the huge screens along the route and we are beyond beautiful. We are strong and powerful. No, we are more in secret, the youngest victor and the star-crossed lover who lost her love. A fierce fighter and a protective mother, both who are prepared to slaughter to get home. We do not seek fans nor grace when with our smiles or catch their kisses. They have taken so much from us both. We are unforgiving.

And I love it. Getting to finally be myself at last.

As we curve around into the loop of the City Circle, I can see that a couple of other stylists have attempted to steal Cinna's – the District 12 stylist's – idea of illuminating their tributes. The electric-light-studded outfits from District 3, where they make electronics, at lest make sense. But what are the livestock keepers from District 10, who are dressed as cows, doing with flaming belts? Broiling themselves? It's pathetic.

Once the chariots have stopped, I notice the pair of tributes from District 6 who are morphling addicts – morphling is a powerful painkiller created by the Capitol to beused for severe injuries and illnesses – both are bone thin with sagging yellowish skin with oversized oval eyes. I cannot tear my eyes away from them, even as President Snow begins to speak from his balcony, welcoming us all to a very special Hunger Games. The anthem plays and as we make our final trip around the circle, am I wrong? Or do I see the president eyes fixated on me? I bet he is glad I volunteered or was that always his plan, rig the reaping so Annie was called, knowing that I would volunteer to exchange places? No, no one is that smart, no even Snow.

I have to wait until the doors of the Training Centre are closed eight chariots behind us before I can relax enough to release Finnick's sweating hand from my death grip. Tiberius and Vibia are there, pleased with our performance. Mags is there only she isn't standing at our chariot, she is over with District 12's mentor Haymitch Abernathy and the tributes from District 11. Mags uses her hand to beckon us over whilst Haymitch urges his tributes to adventure over also. I know Chaff by sight, no only because I met him during my brief visit to their district during my tour but almost because I have spent years watching him pass a bottle back and forth with Haymitch on television. He is dark-skinned, about two meters tall and on one of his arms ends in a stump because he lost his hand in the Games, he won forty years ago.

The woman, Seeder, who I also recognise from my visit to the district, is rather striking considering her age. She must be at least sixty. Seeder has olive skin and straight black hair streaked with silver with golden brown eyes. She looks strong and there is no sign that she has turned to liquor or morphling or any other form of escape over the years. Before either of us can say a word, she embraces me. I am not sure why because I remember killing on of her tributes last year in the opening minutes during the bloodbath but I return the hug due to the warm contact. When she pulls back, I am no stranger to being kissed by unknown people so when Chaff steps forwards and kisses me. I don't jerk back or show discomfort because in the back of my mind, I know they are testing me and from the settling look in Seeder's eyes and the nod Finnick gives me, I have passed.

However, Willow Combe does not. Chaff throws his good arm around her shoulder and gives the girl a big kiss right on her mouth. Willow jerks back completely flabbergasted by the action causing myself and the other victors – but not Mags who slaps my arm to stop me – all let out guffaw's of laughter.

That's about all the time we get before the Capitol Peacekeeper's are firmly directing us towards the elevators. I get the distant feeling they're not comfortable with the camaraderie amongst the victors, who couldn't seem to care less. As I walk towards the elevators, someone rustles up to my side. "Beautiful costume, Johanna." I chuckle as the girl pulls off a headdress of leafy branches and tosses it behind her without bothering to look where it falls.

"Shut up." she snaps.

Johanna Mason, from District 7. Lumber and paper, therefore she is dressed as a tree. It's hilarious and by me showing knowledge of this victor and the playfulness between us shows friendship to the other tributes near by. She ruffles up her spiky hair and rolls her wide-set brown eyes. Seeder and Chaff have combed off to enter a second elevator free with Mags leaving the rest of us waiting for an elevator to contain the rest of us: myself and Finnick, the District 12 tributes and mentor and Johanna.

"Isn't my costume awful? My stylist is such an idiot. District 7, lumber. Our tributes have been trees for forty years under her. Wish I had gotten Cinna, you guys look amazing." she says adjusting her fixed gaze on Willow who looks uncomfortable darting to her eyes over in my direction. I simply flick my eyebrows us and give her a slight shrug.

As we all pack into the elevator that is actually larger than expected, once the elevator doors close, Johanna turns to Peeta and asks for a hand, he unzips the rest of her tree dress, letting it drop to the floor and then kicks it away with disgust. And expect for her forest green slippers, she doesn't have on a stitch of clothing. "That's better," she gleams in the direction of Willow and Peeta. Beside me Finnick is unable to contain a grin of humour from his face and I simply keep my eyes focused on Johanna's face. Finnick had informed me during a short conversation during the drive to the Remake Centre that it was part of Johanna's act to unnerve other competitors. Finnick knows this due to years of being friends with Johanna. Peeta is still relatively new to the crowd but Willow was the victor of the 83rd Hunger Games. A year before me and I suspect that Peeta didn't see the reason to inform such a new victor about Johanna and I assume Haymitch didn't say anything just to see her reaction.

The entire journey to the fourth floor was spent with Finnick and I grinning whilst Willow was unable to find a place beside Johanna to stare as she chatted away to Peeta about his paintings. The light from their glowing costumes reflect off her bare breasts. When the door opens on mine and Finnick's floor, we bid the others goodbye and Johanna makes the effort to kiss my cheek and before we departed, I gave Willow a sympathetic look. I did feel sorry for her but the reactions she gave allowed me to see who she was really. A pure girl who respected the bodies of others and was slightly prudish but I watched her during her Games, she was a fighter and I knew I wanted her as an ally. Her and Peeta.

"I want them as allies." I tell Finnick the moment the elevator doors have closed behind me.

Finnick chuckles, "Easy tiger, lets get through the rest of tonight before we think about allies." he tells me.

As we enter the living quarters, Mags and Dieter looked pleased about something but then Mags face grows hard. _What did I do now? _I almost say as the elderly woman's eyes land upon me, her head then turns in the direction of the dinning area.

Dieter blinks in the same direction, then says brightly, "Looks like they've got you a matching set this year."

Confused, I gently brush passed them to get more into the wide corridor to turn to the side and see the same male Avox from District 4 who tended to me last year until the Games begun with bright, neon blue hair, my nerves instantly settles at the sight of him and I can tell he is having a difficult time keeping a smile from his lips but then my eyes flicker to the young female beside him, another Avox, also with blue hair. That must be what Dieter meant by a matching set.

As the young girl and I make eye contact, I feel like someone had stabbed me in the gut with a blunt knife because, I know her, too. Not from the Capitol but from years of sparing secrets, teaching her to swim, mindless chatter about her futile crush on Finnick Odair and that last day watching her leave the district.

Our new Avox is Leila.

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><p><strong>AN:** _Leila's back however it's only her so there could be a possibility of the others making it to District 13 but for now we don't know. Did you guys enjoy this chapter, what are your opinions on Anastasia's views and feelings towards the other competitors and her friends. Review!_


	26. Chapter 26: New Living Arrangements

Chapter Twenty-Six.

**New Way Of Living.**

Finnick grips my elbow as if anticipating my next move, but I am as speechless as the Capitol torturers have rendered Leila. I remember being informed that they did something to Avox's tongues so they could never talk again however in my head I can still hear Leila's voice, playful and bright as it echoed across the dinning room at school or chuckling as we spent the days on the beach or complaining about homework. I am very aware that if I make any movement towards her or make any act of recognition would result in punishment for her. Therefore we spent the little time we have staring into each other's eyes.

Leila, now a mute slave; me, now heading off to slaughter. What would we say anyway? That we're sorry for each others lot? That we ache for the other's pain? That we are glad of the years of friendship we had? Truthfully, Leila shouldn't be glad she knew me, if I had acted more concerned when she first attempted to leave District 4 she wouldn't have left. Wouldn't be an Avox now. And more specifically, wouldn't be _my_ Avox because President Snow has so obviously had her placed here for my own torment.

For a second, Leila's mouth twitches slightly into a smirk – a fucking smile! Cheeky little bitch! I yank my elbow from Finnick's grasp and headed down to my old bedroom, locking the door behind me. I sit on the side of the bed as anger swells up inside me, elbows on my knees and forehead on my fists. Leila is laughing at me. How is that even possible for her to even be able to look me in the eye at this moment in her life!?

When Dieter eventually knocks on the door to summon me to dinner, I get up and slip off my dress, folding it neatly and setting it on my table next to the door before washing off any traces of the make-up applied by Vibia and then redressing in a simple shirt and trousers outfit made from silk before heading down to the dinning room where Finnick, Mags, Dieter, Vibia and Tiberius are already sat waiting for me so they can start. During dinner I'm not aware of much except that Leila and the blue haired Avox from District 4 are our servers. The others remain chatting about the opening ceremony but the only time I feel personally involved in the conversation is when my name is mentioned in a complimentary manor but after Leila's attitude earlier I am still angry and when she goes to dish me up some food, I snatch the utensil from her hand. Leila looks a little taken back by my actions and Dieter smacks my hand whilst hissing. "That isn't your job, Anastasia." And then, I let go.

When we go and watch the recap of the opening ceremony, I wedge myself between Dieter and Vibia on the sofa because I don't want to be next to Finnick or Mags. This awfulness and regret about Leila belongs to me and not to the others because despite knowing Leila, not personally but being aware to the friendship we had is too difficult to feel their presence but they still don't understand. At least Dieter and Vibia remain clueless enough for me to act semi-normal. As we watch the processions to the City Centre, I think how it's bad enough that they dress us all up in costumes and parade us through the streets in chariots on a regular year. Kids in costumes are silly but ageing victors, it turns out, are pitiful. A few who are on the younger side like Finnick, Johanna, Peeta and Willow or whose bodies haven't fallen into disrepair, like Seeder and Enobaria, can still manage to maintain a little dignity. But the majority who are in the clutches of drink or morphling or illness, look stomach turning in their costumes, depicting cows and trees. Last year I remember loads of discussion about each contestant but tonight there's only the occasional comment from Dieter. The crowd goes wild when Finnick and I then when Peeta and Willow appear, both sets of tributes looking young and so strong and beautiful. The very image of what tributes should be.

As soon as it's over, I stand up and thank Vibia for her brilliant ideas for my outfit. I don't thank Tiberius because he isn't my stylist and Finnick will no doubt thank the man himself. As I head off to my bedroom, Dieter calls with a reminder to meet early for breakfast to work out our training strategy. But despite Dieters attempt to sound cheery, his voice is hollow and falls upon hollower ears as I bolt the door shut behind me before resting my forehead on the soothing cold wood with tears forming along the lashes, suddenly all the anger I had saved up since the announcement, all the hysteria I hadn't released through my screams that night pelted out of me in a single moment and everything breakable inside my chambers becomes my enemy. I hate it all, everything fucking Capitol made or housed, I despise. Throwing my strong arm back, I knock the vase from the table beside the door flying across the room smashing against the wardrobe with the rose flowers falling lifelessly to the ground. A lamp I think was next to face my wrath as I kick it firmly from my night stand beside my bed, the bulb and glass base smash against the firmness of the walls. I break a glass and a plate – which I have no idea why is even in my bedroom but hey – before I realise that the blue haired Avox boy was collecting my Tribute Parade outfit for Vibia. He coughs grabbing my attention. I turn swiftly to face him. "I'm sorry." I apologise before unlocking the door and opening it ajar before moving away so he can exit without feeling afraid. The Avox studies me with curious eyes before dropping the clothing back to the table top and I swear he actually huffs before making his way over to the shattered vase on the floor.

"Leave it!" I yell at him, "Just leave it alone!"

I hate him, too, with her knowing reproachful eyes calling me a coward, a monster, a puppet of the Capitol. At least he tried to flee the place that wanted our lives paid for something that was never our fault. But for me, the crimes I commit in the arena will be paid with more blood but this time my own but how many more lives will have to be taken for me to meet my end.

But instead of fleeing the room, the boy closes the door before heading into the bathroom and returning with a damp cloth before gesturing me to sit on the edge of the bed. I obey, curious to what he is doing and I'm completely shocked to watch him kneel in front of me to wipe my face gently with the cloth. Once he had done wiping my face, the Avox goes to work on my bleeding hands which I hadn't actually noticed until the sudden warmth made the exposed wounds sting and myself jerk slightly, touching the Avox's hand on impulse, the male looks at me with an apologetic look and then continues with a gentler touch. Thankfully the cuts weren't deep enough to effect performance which was a bonus I guess with the located destination I was heading into.

"Why are you doing this?" I ask in a whispered voice, the boy refolds the cloth the blood covered portion was hidden beneath cleaner layers before he re-wiped beneath my eyes. The Avox looks up at me, for a brief moment our eyes connect but he doesn't speak or attempt to answer my question, I am saddened by this but then it just confirms the Capitol's tongue cutting method. "You really can't speak, can you?"

The Avox boy shakes his head.

"Would you?" I ask.

The boy looks up at me again before furrowing his brows in a questioning expression. I chuckle lightly causing him to smile.

"If you could speak, would you talk to me?" I explain a little more in detail.

The Avox boy nods his head.

"Sorry about the mess." I say glancing around to look at the smashed pottery and china. Despite the boy silently dismissing me with the use of his hand, I cannot leave him alone to clean up this mess, therefore I spend the next hour helping the blue-headed boy clean up the room. When all the rubbish has been dropped down a disposal, he turns to my bed but I refuse to get in seeing that I haven't had a shower so he picks up my Tribute Parade outfit before smiling at me then leaving. After I have had my shower, there is a little knock at the door but I'm simply wearing a thin robe therefore I don't answer it allowing the person on the other side of the door to think I'm sleeping but with Finnick I would have no such luck so the previous victor lets himself in making me jump.

"Finnick!" I hiss, "Will you advert your eyes so I can put some clothes on!"

My district partner laughs loudly, "Don't flatter yourself, Anastasia. You're not the first semi-naked woman I have seen."

"I might be your last, Mr Odair." I snap back in reply from the bathroom where I manage to savage my clothes which I wore at dinner from the hamper hidden under the sink. When I return Finnick is looked rather amused but I ignore the look of ignorance. "Can I help you?" I ask.

"I wanted to talk to you about the female Avox." he says, shifting his eyes in all directions gesturing to hidden microphones and/or cameras. "Seeing as this is our last week living, I thought it would be nicer for myself to have her, leaving you with the male." he says with a smile. I could leap into Finnick's arms but the threat of hidden cameras stops me, I know why he is saying these things, it's so Leila and myself will have as little contact as possible, meaning no feelings will get in the way of her doing her jobs and me concentrating on staying alive.

I nod, "I don't mind at all." I reply with a twice as happy smile. Plus I enjoyed the company of the male Avox, he is nice and it's a shame to see him in such silent pain not being able to speak or express feelings or beliefs.

"Good." Finnick grins, stepping forwards to kiss my forehead and then winking, "I'll see you in the morning." Then he leaves, shutting the door behind himself.

****xxx****

I wake early, just as the sun is peaking over the horizon of the hills surrounding the Capitol as I adventure from my bed and stumbling to the bathroom in order to gulp down water from the tap without the use of a glass – because I had smashed that last night – to sooth my incredibly dry throat. It was a surprise to find my dreams not completely riddled with nightmares however when I wake, my clothes are dampened with sweat. And to delay going to breakfast, I set the shower to the longest programme and climb in.

I don't really want to go and discuss mine and Finnick's training strategy. What is there to discuss? Every victor already knows that everybody else can do. Or used to be able to do, anyway. Finnick will display his usual confidence and maybe try to charm a couple of the other female victors. Willow, no doubt. And me, what am I suppose to do? Throw knifes or stay in the shadows without the ability to handle my temper? It wouldn't be like last year, these victors will be looking for the strongest others to create alliances with, I might have been one of the strongest last year but this year, I start at the bottom with the disadvantage of not knowing anyone on a friendship relationship bases. Apart from Finnick and possibly Johanna and Peeta. I'm especially not comfortable speaking about it with Leila standing mutely by.

The shower washes and rinses my hair and body perfectly before clicking off. I exit and wrap myself in a cotton towel from the trail beside the unit. In my bedroom, I notice Vibia has left my outfit for the training sessions on the table with a note which reads: _The clothing is made from sweat-wicking Dri-FIT meaning you will be comfortable and sweat dry throughout the training sessions. Good luck. _Once I had dried myself off, I dress slowly into the new outfit, it's different from last years outfit because it's skin tight, the trousers are quarter length, the top was completely sleeveless with thin straps and the shoes were not boots but normal black trainers. The only thing that remained similar about last years training outfit and this years, the number of my district remained printed on the back of my shirt.

I brush my teeth before exiting the bedroom ready to face the people in the dinning room, only, there wasn't any. The entire flat was empty of human life, I glanced at the clock, it was seven and we weren't ordered to be down at the Training Centre until ten. Vibia then exits from the balcony overlooking the city to grin happily at me followed by a small cloud of smoke. "Good morning, Princess." she beams brightly.

Raising an eyebrow at her whilst heading off to the dinning area to see food set out in bowls and on plates with serving utensils so I can help myself. "Am I late?" I ask beginning to load my plate with delicious food.

Vibia shakes her head, "No, everyone else is still sleeping." she replies helping herself to a cup of black coffee and raising it to her lips without adding sugar or milk. I take a seat at the table before tucking into my selection of food: scrambled eggs and ham, sausages, fried potatoes and beans which overloads on my plate. Vibia watches me with her narrow eyes and sharply angled features, today she wears a rather beautiful outfit made from what looks like a corset and a skirt attached to the bottom that floats down to just above her knees, both covered in black lace. Her black shoes that cover her ankles are made from leather with the large heel created from solid silver carved into a dragon.

"If Dieter isn't up yet, how come you are?" I question through my mouthful of food, washing it down with a mouthful of lukewarm hot chocolate. Vibia looked almost shifty for a moment but she manages to cover it perfectly.

Her eyes connect with mine, "Planning, my dear." she replies moving to the seat opposite me at the table.

"Planning what?" I ask, curiosity grips me.

Vibia smiles up at me, "Your next outfit." she winks.

I sign, "Princess or Queen themed?" I question.

My stylist looks down into the black sea of her coffee held in the marble cup. "You'll just have to wait until the night to see." she replies.

Why is she being so secretive? Surely me knowing what my outfit will be for the public appearance will only help me prepare for walking and sitting. Vibia doesn't elaborate on what she said beforehand so I don't pry. Instead, I return to my meal and wait for the rest of the District 4 team too wake to the morning.

Finnick greets us, dressing in an almost completely identical outfit. Like mine, his top was sleeveless and had our district number printed on the back however unlike my outfit, his skin tight trousers are full length. My district partner loads his plate with food before sitting down in the seat Vibia had vacated. Mags still hadn't emerged from her bedroom and I begin to wonder how she even managed to mentor and raise Finnick but I guess she was much younger back then and it was before the stroke. Granted, Mags can speak but she mumbles and nine-times-out-of-ten, the elderly woman finds it easier not too speak. Was this how President Snow was going to assure I die in the arena in a weeks time? Giving me the most useless mentor possible.

"Today, in training, you have two jobs." Finnick says after swallowing his mouthful of food, "One, show off your skills."

"Easy enough." I say.

"And two, make some friends." says Finnick, stressing the word make and friend in a teasing manor.

My brows furrow, "No." I say, "I don't trust any of them, I can't really stand most of them, and I'd rather it be jut the two of us."

Finnick looks up from his plate, setting down his knife and fork. "But that isn't going to be enough, your going to need allies," he insists, my heart palpitates at the word 'allies'. The last people I called allies in the arena was Cassandra, Alden and Garrett, they all died horrible deaths, most happening in front of me.

"W... Why?" I stammer.

The pain I feel registers to my ex-mentor, "Anastasia," Finnick says softly. "You're starting at a distinct disadvantage, most of your competitors have known each other for years. If you don't make any friends, who do you think they're going to target first?" he asks, his tone drips with confidence as he knows the answer to the question he just asked.

I sign heavily. "Me. And nothing I do is going to override any old friendships. So why bother?" I ask.

"Because you can fight, throw knifes and you're clever. You're also popular with the crowd. All that will make you a desirable ally. But only if you let the others know you're willing to team up with them." Finnick says.

"You mean you want to be in the Career's this year?" I ask unable to hide my distaste. Traditionally the tributes from District 1, 2 and 4 join forces however that didn't happen last year, not completely. Garrett Larkin joined them but I refused making myself a target. It's possible the Careers will take in a few other exceptional fighters – Alden's sister, Jacqueline joined them last year, only to hunt us down – and then, they hunt down the weaker competitors.

"Not necessarily. Everyone's a victor this year. Make your own pack if you'd rather. Choose who you like." he tells me.

"Would you be in my pack?" I question.

Finnick lets out a howl of a laugh, "I thought I already was."

Grinning, I turn back to my plate, "Who would you suggest?" I ask.

"Johanna and Beetee. Although neither of the District 12 pair are to be ignored." says Finnick, "We need to team up with people of use to us. Remember, you're not in a ring full of trembling children anymore. These people are all experienced killers, no matter what shape they appear in."

Finnick is right. But who can I trust? Seeder, maybe but do I really want to make a pact with her knowing I may have to kill her later? No. Still, Cassandra and Alden made a pack with me under the same circumstances. Johanna would be a great ally however I have seen her kill, the way she managed to trick everyone during her games but that won't work for her now. Beetee would be a incredibly valued ally seeing as he can eliminate a large number of tributes at once but then again, the victors will be extra careful around the arena.

Dieter shows up all made up to take us down to the Training Centre but I tell him not to bother because last year myself and Garrett were always one of the first pairs of tributes in the gym and Finnick doesn't like the idea of us showing up in the gym with a babysitter and for me being the youngest victor, it's even more important for me to look independent. Therefore, he has to satisfy himself with taking us to the elevator, but not before Mags has patted us on the shoulders, giving us silent good lucks before giving Dieter the chance to fuss over our hairs and he even went as far as pushing the button for us.

It's such a short ride that there's no real time for a conversation and when we arrive, all the worrying that Dieter did seems useless to find that only Brutus and Enobaria are present in the training room. By ten o'clock, only about half of the tributes have shown up. Atala, the woman who runs training, beings her spiel right on time, unfazed by the poor attendance. She must expect it. Silently, I am relieved because that means there are a dozen people I don't have to pretend to make friends with. Atala runs through the list of stations available, which include both combat and survival skills, and then releases us to train on our own.

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><p><strong>AN:** _Review and tell me what you think of this chapter!_


	27. Chapter 27: First Training Session

Chapter Twenty-Seven.

**First Training Session.**

I tell Finnick we should spit up, thus covering more ground and he agreed. When he goes off to chuck spears with Brutus and Chaff, I head over to the new knot-tying station which is literally various metal pole fixed horizontal on a table a little higher than waist hight with a ropes in a variety of thickness and length tied allowing the tributes to follow the instructions given on the large flat-screen in front. I approach the station because it's empty and it's a good way to kill time whilst Finnick is off making friends.

Selecting one of the ropes, I begin to follow the instructions on screen. The first instructions was too form a butterfly shape, created by allowing too loose loops to fall whilst holding the middle. I continue to follow the instructions and then, suddenly, a pair of arms snake around my middle to grip onto the robe taking me by surprise causing me to move quickly, discreetly elbowing the person behind me in the stomach. Of course, it's Finnick with a huge grin to my childish response.

"I'm sorry, not really." Finnick laughs as my face heats up with embarrassment, I glance around to see if any of the other victors saw me react to Finnick and it appears that Peeta Mellark has given me his attention, therefore I have no other option but to continue this act with Finnick to make up for my jumpiness. "Let me show you the best knot to know in the arena." he smiles in such a convincing way, I lean in to watch him remove a length of rope from the wall to the side of the station and then turning back to me, he leans against the table as he begins to manipulate the rope into a knot. "Don't look at me, look at the knot," he orders after catching me staring. He pulls the rope around itself in several loops before informing me this is where it gets tricky. And then Finnick ties the knot before putting the loop over his head and positions itself around his neck and then pulls the knot to his throat, making a face as if he'd pulled it too tightly. Then I realise he had made a noose. My face crinkles with annoyance, he laughs amusingly to himself as he pulls the long piece of robe straight up over his head and closes his eye whilst sticking out his tongue and dropping his head limply to the side.

"Funny." I comment.

My district partner grins before handing the robe to me. "Want to take me for a walk?" he teases.

Rolling my eyes, I head over to another vacant station where tributes can learn to build fires. I already know how to make fires however during my time in the arena I was dependant on matches to start them. So the trainer has me work with flint, steel and some charred cloth. This is much harder than it looks, and even working as intently as I can, it takes me close to an hour to get a fire going. I look up with a triumphant smile only to discover I have company.

The two tributes from District 3 are beside me, struggling to start a decent fire using a log with a long thin stick has been inserted in a neatly made hole in the top. I think about leaving but I really want to try using the flint again, and if I have to report back to Finnick that I tried to make friends, these two might be a bearable choice. Both are small in stature with ashen skin and black hair. The woman, Wiress, is probably around my mother's age and speaks in a quiet, intelligent voice. But right away I notice she has a habit of dropping off her words in mid-sentence, as if she's forgotten you're there. Beetee, the man, is older and somewhat fidgety. He wears glasses but spends a lot of time looking under them. They're a little strange, but I'm pretty sure neither of them is going to try and attempt to make me uncomfortable by kissing or stripping naked. And they're from District 3. maybe they can even confirm my suspicions of an uprising there.

I glance around the Training Centre. Finnick is teasing Willow by the trident wielding station. The morphlings from District 6 are in the camouflage station, painting each other's faces with bright pink swirls. The male tribute from District 5 is vomiting wine on the sword-fighting floor. Peeta has moved himself to the archery station and Johanna Mason is naked again, oiling her skin down for a wrestling lesson. And with the District 1 pair at the knife throwing station, I decide to stay put.

Watching the pair try to start a fire by twisting the stick slowly attempting to create friction in order to generate fire is incredibly painful. "You should move your hands downwards, and faster." I advice before taking a seat on the floor below the step the pair are currently seated on. Beetee gives me a long gaze and then actually uses my active, moving the stick quicker whilst moving his hands downwards, after three tries of that, smoke begins to erupt from the small hole in the log.

"Ah!" Wiress exclaims quietly, "A little brute force..."

"Is always useful," Beetee finishes for her before turning to look at me with a humble smile, "Thank you."

I grin in reply but then Wiress speaks. "Look," she says giving her head a slight nod in the direction of the Gamemakers which are roaming around, eating and drinking, sometimes taking notice of us. I look up and see Plutarch Heavensbee in the magnificent purple robe with fur-trimmed collar that designates him as Head Gamemaker. He's eating a turkey leg.

I don't see why this merits comment, but I say, "Yes, he's been promoted to Head Gamemaker this year."

Wiress shakes her head, "No, no. There by the corner of the table..."

Beetee squints under his glasses, "Ah, forcefield."

I stare in that direction, but nothing catches my eye. "How do you know?" I ask, feeling dumb amongst these tributes.

"The shimmering." Beetee says, still looking beneath his glasses, I continue staring in that general direction but nothing catches my eyes, Beetee's fingers then gently touch my cheek and push my face to the left a couple of inches "Look there." he says.

And then, I see it. A patch of space about fifteen centimetres square at the corner of the table seems almost to be vibrating. It's as if the air is rippling in tiny visible waves, distorting the sharp edges of the wood and a goblet of wine someone has set there.

"That looks just like glass." I comment.

Wiress shrugs, "It's to separate us and them."

"No doubt Katniss Everdeen's fault." I joke lightly. Katniss was rumoured to have shot an arrow at the Gamemakers when they didn't pay enough attention to her during her private training session. In fairness if it was my life on the line and they weren't paying attention to me, I would have had the urge to throw a knife or two.

Beetee nods in agreement, "Electromagnetic." he mumbles.

Astonished I ask, "How can you tell?"

The District 3 pair erupt into laughs that make me go ridged slightly but then I manage to smile. "Is it really obvious or something?"

"Is it obvious!?" Wiress teases, "They might as well put up a sign." she remarks.

"Look around you." Beetee suggests, "Every now and again, all the lights and hologram they flicker. Why?"

"Because the forcefield is taking up too much energy?" I guess.

Beetee shakes his head and squints his eyes at me, "There's always a flaw in the system."

Lunch is announced before I can ask anymore questions. I look for Finnick but he's hanging out with a group of about ten other victors so I decide just to eat with District 3. We made our way to the dinning area however Finnick's gang has other ideas. They're dragging all the smaller tables to form one large table so that we all have to eat together. Now I don't know that to do, in fact I suddenly feel like I'm back in school, sitting with Leila and her friends, feeling like the odd-one-out.

I take a tray and start making my way around the food carts that ring the room. Peeta catches up with me at the stew. "How's it going?" he questions watching me spoon the sloppy food into my plate.

"Good. Fine." I reply passing him the stew utensil and not waiting for him. Walking onto the next cart to see what they are serving. I pass because it's spicy rice and head onto the next cart, shovelling on the sweet and sour rice. Despite deliberately taking my time, the District 12 male tribute seems to be sure he will wait for me. "Can I help you with something, Mr Mellark?" I question whilst taking a seat on the very end of the arrangement of table, furthest away from the Careers however they all seem to switch ends when we take our seats together.

"Allies." he states firmly before taking a mouthful of his food.

I raise my eyebrows in bewilderment, "Excuse me?"

"You and me." he says before speaking a single word firmly again. "Allies."

My laughing catches the attention of the tribute sat beside me, which is the District 1 male but he doesn't say anything however I suspect he is listening. "What value are you Peeta, to me?" I question taking a mouthful of food.

He raises his eyebrows at me this time. "Well, what value are you Anastasia, to me?" he turns the question back around. It seems mine and Peeta's playful squabble over how valuable we are to each other has sparked silence amongst the other victors as they listen without looking at us trying not to give themselves away but Finnick's smiling confirms they are all listening.

"I'll tell you what, sometime after lunch, I'll show how valuable an ally I am." I reply confidently before turning back to my food without looking up at the other tributes. Granted it was a bold move to put myself out there so much but we are all victors, our hidden talents in our first games are no longer hidden, we are all aware of the others strengths and weaknesses. Personal weaknesses cause more problems and even being the newest victor I can locate several bonds that could cause weaknesses in a pack. Peeta and Willow. The District 2 and 3 pair. Make a pack out of these and they will be so hell-bent on protecting their partners that protecting each other wouldn't be the main idea. Yes, Finnick and I are very close and protecting each other will probably be a priority but in the arena, saving ourselves will be high up on our lists. For me anyway it will because despite not minding if I die in the arena, I would really like Finnick to go home but if I win – I know it's a minuscule chance – but if I can, President Snow will have no reason to hate me, I have won twice, the flame Cato and I created in our first games is extinguished by the victory of my second games. But then again, if I die that flame dies with me anyway. Either way is a win.

I try incredibly hard to be more sociable, not just with the District 3 pair and Peeta but everyone. After lunch, I do the edible-insect station with the District 8 tributes – Cecelia, who's got three children at home and Woof, a really old guy who's hard of hearing and doesn't seem to know what's going on since he keeps trying to stuff poisonous bugs in his mouth – I enjoy my time with Cecelia because she is another mother and I feel like I can act more like myself around her and she is gentler than the others, patting my shoulder when I get something right and even goes as far as giving me a half hug at the end of the session. I like her. Cashmere and Gloss, the unbelievably beautiful sister and brother from District 1 invite me over and we make hammocks for a while. They're polite but cool however through most of my time with them I couldn't help but think about the fact I came up with the plan that resulted in both of their tributes death last year. Both my hammock and my attempt to connect with them are average at best. I join Enobaria at the sword-fighting station and exchange a few comments but it's obvious neither of us want to team up. Willow even comes over and we make fishing hooks together out of nails and earrings using hair and string to make them sturdy. After that we agree to have a small session together where she helps me with my archery and I will help with knife throwing.

After that, I decide to give up on making friends, I have two more days to confirm allies and since I have interacted with most, I get a good feeling I might have a good chance of being offered ally deals. Aside from the one Peeta Mellark offered me during lunch. Seeing the only calmness I will achieve in this facility is the knife throwing range, I head for there. The trainer, Tax, recognises me from the games and hands me a holster – similar to the one I had in my Games – but this one straps around both legs and then gives me a very nice selection of different size and weight daggers. I slip them into the pockets and then step into the hologram room.

A risen square is central to the room and allows me to have a clear view of each floor in the rectangle room. The glass door closes behind me and then suddenly, the room goes dark and beams of orange light decorate the room, there is metallic buzzing as the beams begin to move, dagger in hand I glance around the room slowly searching for the target about to be created. The beams suddenly all dart to my left creating a tall figure holding an axe running towards me, my dagger leaves my hand almost immediately piercing the man made of orange cubs in the heart. The next figure appears immediately after the first on the second floor across the room aiming an arrow at me, the next dagger leaves my hand quickly hitting the figure in the gut, crumbling to the floor in a mountain of cubes. My heart races due to my excitement throwing blade again, loosing myself in the adrenaline as the next dagger is whipped from my holster and aimed at the figure who also throws a dagger of cubes, I turn swiftly missing the object before throwing my own which plunges into the holograms forehead. The next figure appears the other side of me, my dagger pieces his lung. The next figure on the second floor along side me running holding a weapon that looks like a sword. _Cato? No, that isn't Cato_. My dagger pierces his back. The next object thrown at me is a spear, I forward roll across the floor actually feeling the hologram zip past me before stabbing the figure with blade still in hand. The next figure has a sword and appears to my right, I have to throw two daggers in order to take down this fake tribute, one dagger pierces the shoulder removing the weapon and the second blade embeds into the holograms throat. And the last figure created by neon orange cubes, holds a trident like Finnick Odair, it leaps from the second story trident aimed at 'killing me' but my blade hits the stomach making the figure explode into loose cubes that effectively bounce off me on contact. My heart beat echoes in my ears as the electric noise dies down almost into silence and the lights responsible for illuminating the room become full. The sudden echo of solo clapping hands causes me to turn around and see that the majority of the victors have gathered behind the glass wall to watch me. Their faces show everything from envy to hatred to admiration. Wiress is the victor clapping. Johanna, Peeta and Beetee both smirk with happiness. Willow, Gloss, Cashmere and Brutus is looking gob-smacked and Finnick is all puffed out like a proud mama bird.

The glass door opens, many of the victors leave seeing no point to stand around gawking at me like I'm on display. Finnick and Johanna melt away to speak and Peeta is the only one who waits outside the glass doors with a smile on his face.

"Now, I can see you are an incredibly valuable ally." he comments humbly, "If you will let me, I would –"

Shaking my head causes him to break off mid-sentence. "Peeta if we keep playing this game of 'how valuable', it'll be the beginning of the Games before we make any allies."

"So, you're agreeing?" he asks, he puts out his left hand, "First allies?"

Letting out a little laugh puts Peeta off for a moment, "You're not my first ally, Peeta." I reply.

"Finnick doesn't count." he replies.

Scoffing slightly, "Finnick always counts. Just like Willow does. It's the unspoken alliance between district partners." I say politely before placing my hand in his and shaking it. "Allies?"

"Allies." Peeta repeats shaking my head firmly with a grin.

Second ally: Peeta Mellark, District 12.

****xxx****

The moment Finnick and I are alone in our living quarters, he slaps me on the shoulder before bringing me in for a large hug that took me a little by surprise. "Well done!" he almost squeals like a thirteen year old girl before releasing me. "Half the victors want you as an ally. Even Brutus." he reveals.

My entire face glows with amazement, the biggest and strongest tribute in these games wanted me as a victor, but then I think of my already made alliances. Both silent and verbally made. "Maybe I don't want Brutus. Maybe I want Wiress and Beetee. Peeta and Willow. Victors have a little chance at overpowering if the time comes." I say with a shrug.

Finnick raises an eyebrow at me. "Of course you do. Well Princess, you've got pick of the litter. Choose wisely." he advices before going over to inform Mags of today's events. Dashing passed them, I give the elderly mentor a brief hello and a kiss to say hello and then went into my bedroom where I released a squeal. A part of me couldn't understand this girly outburst but it was overpowered by the fact half the victors wanted me as an ally. They thought I was valuable, no one has ever through that about me during these Games. Well, no one expect Cato, Alden and Cassandra. Those three are just the small fraction of people I have come into contact with during these training sessions. Now I just need to pick the right victors and convince them for form a pack with me. Can't be to hard, right?

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><p><strong>AN:**_ What do you guys think about Anastasia talking to Beetee and Wiress but how do you feel about her making allies with Peeta Mellark? Also how do you feel about the victors moving the tables together and interacting with each other a lot more than original tributes? And did anyone find the 'Finnick Ties The Knot' part a little funny or was it a failed attempt at funny? Please Review!_


	28. Chapter 28: It's About Staying Alive

Chapter Twenty-Eight.

**It's About Staying Alive.**

Since my knife throwing exhibition, I feel that I have been even more drawn into the victor's circle. During the next two days of training, I spend time with almost everybody headed for the arena. More time than deemed healthy with Johanna Mason who helped the morphlings paint me into field of yellow and pink flowers whilst Wiress grinned happily. Even Willow spends time with me, an hour of archery instruction in exchange for a knife throwing lesson, during the knife throwing lesson I begin to merge back into my previous games and Willow soon has absorbed the image of Cassandra Potter into her own body. The way she doesn't know the different between handle-heavy and blade-heavy knifes. How to angle your body as you throw and the importance of aiming steadily and not rushing. Johanna begins to take the place of Alden Calevi as she helps me with axe wielding, now I'm confident that if my blades are taken by another and a spare axe was there that I could defend myself with it. Peeta excels in hand-to-hand combat and helps me develop my abilities and movements. And the more I come to know these people, the worse it is. Because, on the whole, I don't hate my fellow tributes like I did many in the first Games. And some here I like. And a lot of them are so damaged that my natural instinct would be to protect them rather than kill them. Like Wiress. But all of them must die if I am to go home. If I am to save Finnick or Johanna. Twenty-three must die for there to be a victor.

At lunch during my second day, Johanna has joined me. We have been spending more and more time with each other that I think Finnick was getting a little suspicious but he has allowed me to form our alliances with other victors without much in put. He also agreed that having District 1 and 2 tributes in our pack would be more awkward and the lack of trust wouldn't make us solid as a unit, plus him and Johanna have been friends for years and our sparking friendship only makes her a natural choice for collection. Therefore my ex-mentor-now-district-partner, looks from a distance as I interact with many, he is happy with my choice of Peeta so far which is a bonus.

"So, made any alliances yet?" Johanna questions eyeing me up suspiciously.

Grinning in reply because she already knows the answer. "Two."

"Finnick and Peeta?" she guesses.

"I nod. But what would you say if I said, I wanted you as an ally as well?" I ask boldly.

Johanna grins at me like a mad-man before shovelling food in so fast I'm surprised she doesn't miss her mouth. Up close, I can see her dark eyes are surrounded by dark circles, her fringe perfectly glides across her forehead despite being crinkled by wrestling and axe wielding. She looks innocent and childlike but she isn't. She's deadly and Johanna knows it.

"You really think you can trust me?" she asks in a husky voice leaning forwards a little more to close the gap across the small table. Her voice merges into mine causing me to chuckle in remembrance which makes Johanna crinkled up her face with confusion. "What's so funny?"

"I remember saying almost the exact same thing to Alden before me and him agreed to became allies." I reply smiling at the memory of myself, Cassandra and Alden standing together after I punched Iris in the ribs causing them to crack.

Johanna gives me an upside-down smile, sympathetic to the memory of my deceased ally. "And what did he say?" she questions lightly.

"It's not about trust. It's about staying alive." I remember the words perfectly because they are words to live by now. Trusting your allies isn't what the main thing is about, it is about extending your chances of survival because of the people around you.

The woman across from me grins again. "Fuck it, all right then." she agrees, "Allies."

Third ally: Johanna Mason, District 7.

Willow Combe was far more difficult to convince and even when I had finished, she wasn't set on an answer but I wasn't really bothered. I had already made an alliance with her district partner, as far as I am concerned, she came with that deal if her and Peeta where to remain together however from her oblivious expression, Peeta had not actually in formed her of our newly made alliance with angers me slightly because it's almost like he is deliberately keeping it from her. Does Willow not like me? She is young like me so you would kind of think we would be more likely to get on or is that completely wrong? Haymitch has questioned me about an alliance between Willow and myself in the privacy of the small room between my front door and the elevator but I explain to him that I won't chase after her, to me she isn't overly valuable. Yes, she can shoot a arrow rather well but what happens if she is rendered weapon-less? Peeta hasn't brought her up in conversation however my talk with Haymitch felt like a bribe, like I needed to be allies with her. Like it was all part of a much bigger plan. Anyway, I silently agreed however Haymitch made me swear I would keep it secret and gives me his gold bangle made from a pattern of flames, he told me to wear it in the arena, Willow will understand it was from him and therefore we are allies.

Fourth ally _(who doesn't actually know we are allies)_: Willow Combe, District 12.

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><p><strong>AN:** _I know it's kind of short but I felt filler was needed plus you guys get to read Johanna and Anastasia become allies which I strangely, really enjoyed writing. So tell me what you think about this chapter, do you think Willow and Anastasia will agree on an actual alliance before the Games or will it be the hear of the moment inside the arena _OR_ do you think they don't become allies at all? I mean, someone has to die in the bloodbath, right? ;) Review!_


	29. Chapter 29: Private Sessions

Chapter Twenty-Nine.

**Private Sessions.**

The final day of training ends with our private sessions. We each get fifteen minutes before the Gamemakers to amaze them with our skills, but I don't know what any of us might have to show them. There's a lot of kidding about it at lunch. What we might do. Sing, dance, strip or tell jokes. The female morphling decides she's just going to take a nap. I don't know what I'm going to do. Throw some knifes, I guess. Finnick said to surprise them if we could but I'm fresh out of ideas.

As the female from District 4, I'm scheduled to go eighth. The dinning room slowly gets quieter, many tribute simply chat to each other before their names are called. I wish Wiress good luck after she is called. And then it's Finnick who rubs the back of my neck before exiting the room leaving me alone. Non of the victors who leave don't return. All I can think of is how they only have a matter of days to live but then on glancing around, I wonder how the hell am I going to kill these people.

"_Anastasia Hollern, report for individual assessment_." a formal high-pitched males voice spoke over the speaks. I remove myself from my seat to walk through the room to the exit, on my way several tributes call to wish me good luck. A male Avox escorts me into the gymnasium before crossing the room to stand at the exit elevator I will take to leave once I am finished or dismissed.

The energy in the room is completely different to last year where the Gamemakers actually looked interested in me whereas this time, most are half way to being completely drunk and more interested in the display of food than me. I try to catch Plutarch Heavensbee's eye, but he seems intentionally ignoring me as he has the entire training period. I remember how he sought me out for a dance, how pleased he was to show me the mockingjay on his watch. His friend manner has no place here. How could it, when I'm a mere tribute and he's Head Gamemaker? So powerful, so removed, so safe...

Suddenly, I am enraged by him and decide what I'm going to do which will blow anything the other tributes have and will do out of the water. I dash over to the knot-tying station and get a length of rope. I start to manipulate it but it's hard because I've never made this actual knot before, I have only watched Finnick's clever fingers and they moved so fast. After about ten minutes, I've come up with a respectable noose. I drag one of the target dummies out into the middle of the room and using some chinning bars, hang it so it dangles by the neck. Tying its hands behind it's back would be a nice touch but I think I might be running out of time. I hurry over to the camouflage station, where some of the other tributes will no doubt be visiting in these sessions. I find a container of blood-red berry juice that will serve my needs. The flesh-coloured fabric of the dummy's skin makes a good, absorbent canvas. I carefully finger-paint the words on it's body, concealing the Gamemakers from view. Then I step away quickly to watch the reaction on the Gamemakers' faces as they read the name on the dummy.

_Seneca Crane._

The effect on the Gamemakers is immediate and so much more satisfying then I originally thought. Several let out small shrieks. Others lose their grips on their wine glasses, which shatter musically against the ground. Two seem to be considering fainting but the look of shock is unanimous. Now I have Plutarch Heavensbee's attention. He stares steadily at me as the juice from the peach he crushed in his hand runs through his fingers. Finally, the man clears his throat, "You may go now, Miss Hollern."

I give a very respectful bow before looking up at Plutarch once last time and he appears to be holding back a grin. Without giving him any more of my time, I turn and go out but at the last moment I cannot resist the urge to toss the container of berry juice over my shoulder. I can hear the contents splatter against the floor and hear a few more wine glasses break. As the elevator doors close before me, I see no one has moved.

_That surprised them, _I think. It was rash and dangerous and no doubt I will pay for it ten times over. But for a moment, I couldn't care less and I feel something close to happiness and I let myself savour it.

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><p><strong>AN:**_ Anastasia has always been prone to acting before she thinks. Punching Iris during the training sessions of her first Games and now this, do you think her actions where childish and stupid? Review!_


	30. Chapter 30: The Scores

Chapter Thirty.

**The Scores.**

Immediately I want to tell Finnick about my training session but when I enter the District 4 living quarters, no one's around. I guess they're all getting ready for dinner and I decide to go take a shower myself since my hands are stained from the red juice. As I stand under the water, I begin to wonder about the wisdom of my latest trick. The question that should now always be my guide is "Will this keep my family alive?" Indirectly, this might not effect them as what happens in training sessions is highly secretive, so there's no point in taking action against my family or me when no one will know what my transgression was. However if the Gamemakers are angry with me and decide to punish me in the arena, Finnick and my other allies could get caught up in the attack as well. Maybe it was too impulsive. Still... I can't say I'm sorry I did it.

At four we gather around the table for dinner, once the soup is served, Dieter gets straight to the issue on everyone's mind. "All right, so how did your private sessions go?" he asks. I exchange a look with Finnick. Somehow I'm not that eager to put what I did into words. In the calm of the dinning room, it seems very extreme.

"You first." I say to Finnick.

He shrugs, "Threw tridents, showed a little bit of survival techniques and demonstrated knot-tying. Nothing spectacular." he says. Mags claps and Dieter and our stylist smile at Finnick and when there eyes suddenly fall on me, expecting the same, if not a higher string of point gaining answers.

I swallow my food which has turned sour with nerves. "Well, I... I demonstrated the best knot to know, in the arena..." I hesitated, quoting Finnick was the easiest way to explain the noose, "And, I may have done it by using a dummy, that I had, painted Seneca Crane's name on it."

Finnick understands my reference to the 'best knot to know in the arena' and stops eating to stare at me. The others give me blank expressions however they have been slightly alerted by the name of the previous Head Gamemaker.

"You... hung... Seneca Crane?" asked Finnick.

Trying to make light of the situation was the only way I could deflect their disapproving looks, "Hung is such an ugly word," I say through a light chuckle to which I hoped someone would join in but they didn't, "But technically, yes I did." I admit.

"What do you mean, _technically_?" Vibia asks.

I shrug slightly, "I was showing off my new knot-tying skills, and he somehow ended up on the end of the noose."

"Oh, Anastasia." say Dieter in a hushed voice, "How do you even know about Seneca Crane?"

Raising one of my eyebrows, "Was it a secret? President Snow didn't act like it was. In fact, he seemed eager for me to know about it." I say. Dieter leaves the table with a violent and dramatic throwing down of his napkin. "Now I've upset Dieter, I should have just lied and said I threw some knives." I huff loosing my appetite completely. We finish the meal in silence but when we rise to go into the sitting room. Vibia wraps his arm round me and gives me a gentle squeeze.

"Come on, let's go see those training scores." she whispers. We gather around on the sofa's in front of the television and a red-eyed Dieter rejoins us. Caesar Flickerman appears on screen and introduces the television programme and what is to come up next, the tributes' face comes up, district by district and their scores flash beneath their pictures. One through twelve. Predictably high scores for Cashmere, Gloss, Brutus, Enobaria and Finnick. Low to medium for the rest.

"Ladies and Gentlemen – the training scores for the tributes of the 85th Annual Hunger Games." he says in a thick masculine Capitol accent. My entire body tensed as I leant forwards to stare at the television screen.

" _Gloss Haven; District 1, with a score of... 11." _

"_Cashmere Haven; District 1, with a score of... 11."_

" _Brutus Sage; District 2, with a score of... 11."_

"_Enobaria Kane; District 2, with a score of... 11."_

The District 3 victor pair, Beetee Latier and Wiress Tate both receive the low score of four. Now it's time for mine and Finnick's scores. "Has anyone ever been given a zero?" I ask. Vibia shakes her head but I guess there if a first time for everything.

"_Finnick Odair; District 4, with a score of... 11."_

Words of praise are circled around the group seated on the sofa. I bump shoulders with Finnick, giving him a silent well done. But within minutes, if not seconds, my own photo has lit up the screen and I'm bracing myself for the lowest score ever given.

"_Anastasia Hollern; District 4, with a score of... 12."_

_Twelve! _I have just made Hunger Games history in the record of training sessions scores. "Why have they done that?" I whispered to myself. Anxiety raised in my chest as Finnick touched my shoulder.

"So that the others will have no choice but to target you." Finnick says flatly. Feeling the tears prickle in the corners of my eyes, I flee to the safety of my bedroom and listen to the rest of the television broadcast not wanting to witness the looks of annoyance on my teams face.

"_Dimitri Nolan; District 5, with a score of... 4."_

" _Saige Reese; District 5, with a score of... 3."_

The morphlings from District 6, Felicia Harper and Aspen Easton both receive the low scores of three.

" _Blight Abbott; District 7, with a score of... 9."_

"_Johanna Mason; District 7, with a score of... 11."_

I smiled when I heard Johanna's result. She had done well.

"_Cecelia Dunst; District 8, with a score of... 6."_

"_Woof Iver; District 8, with a score of... 2."_

"_Aurora Larson; District 9, with a score of... 7."_

"_Pierce Sadler; District 9, with a score of... 4."_

" _Zane Jaxon; District 10, with a score of... 6."_

"_Vivienne Rosati; District 10, with a score of... 8."_

"_Chaff Torres; District 11, with a score of... 7."_

"_Seeder Keefe; District 11, with a score of... 8."_

And now for the final two tributes, so far I haven't been surprised by the scores given but when you take into consideration the ages and heath status, many of the scores are painfully predictable.

"_Peeta Mellark; District 12, with a score of... 9."_

And the final tribute of this years Hunger Games, _"Willow Combe; District 12, with a score of... 9."_

I crumble onto my bed because there is a difference to being the main target in last years games. That was child play, I was in an arena filled with knowledge less teenagers but now, I am going to be stuffed into an arena filled with cold-blooded and well trained killers. And I'm going to enter the games with a large red X on my back.

I'm a target. I'm actually going to die in that arena.

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><p><strong>AN:** _Are the scores what you expected? What's your opinion on this chapter? Review!_


	31. Chapter 31: Day Off

Chapter Thirty-One.

**Day Off.**

I fell asleep on top of my covers however when I awake to fresh new sunlight, I am below my covers suggesting that someone was in here. That person had to be strong enough to move me from on top of my bed to below the sheets therefore I'm guessing Finnick or the neon-blue haired Avox but in light of the previous nights events, I seriously doubt that Finnick would have wanted to see or speak to me.

My body feels in no rush to get up and start the day. Tomorrow night will be the televised tribute interviews, so today Dieter and Mags should be coaching myself and Finnick. _More high heels and new silent comments, _I think, but then the blue-headed Avox boy comes in with a note from Dieter saying that, given our recent tour, both himself and Mags have agreed Finnick and I can handle ourselves adequately in public. The coaching sessions for us have been cancelled. It's a shame I can't go anywhere. But then it hits me how incredibly stupid that is. The roof.

In no hurry, I shower and then dress into a silk jump suit that comes in at the ankles and wrists, slipping on the only flat shoes in my new wardrobe selection and then brushing my hair before running out of the bedroom. Making sure I stop for a small bite to eat on the way passed the dinning room where Leila is stood beside the table looking stiff and terrified.

"You okay today?" I ask her whilst collecting an armful of rolls. She nods silently in reply not looking up at me. Wow, the Avox way of life has really taken a toll on her. It must have been a compulsion to comfort my best friend because I wrapped my arms around her briefly, "You'll be okay." I whisper in her ear before releasing her and leaving.

The floors are silent as I pass them inside the lift from the fourth to the roof. The glass doors ping open allowing me to enter into the glass conservatory where fresh flowers are lined up on either side blossoming into beautiful bright colours. The gardens on the roof remain exactly as Cato and I had left them a year ago. Four gardens with a stone pathway between them, the flowers are bright and radiating, glistening in the sun that hangs over the Capitol city. The warm air glides across my face and with the comforting feeling that I was alone and away from the watchful eye of the Gamemakers or Capitol attendants.

As I exit the conservatory, the memories of my previous meetings on this roof begin to flood back, hitting me like every brick in this building has become loose. Though the whistling wind, I can faintly hear our laughs, our jokes and kisses that we shared when we met here in secret. The footsteps sound heavier and distance as they pass around and through me as my mind recreated everything I could possibly imagine. As I walk down the stone walkway, I pass the garden which played parts in our forbidden love. The far right garden is where we searched for my key-card the first night we met properly. The closet right garden is where we shared our first kiss and the nearest left garden is where we told each other we loved one another. As I pass the gardens, the ghostly figures of Cato Ludwig and I are portrayed, each movement exactly how I first imaged it but this time, I was looking in but I could feel his fingers trace the lines on my face and body before the faint brushing off lips or fingers.

My eyes line with tears as the faint words echoed in my head. To escape from the noises, I move to the only garden Cato and I hadn't shared a moment. The far left garden where the grass was bare with no bench but the flowers around the square blossomed with yellow and red. A small tree has began to sprout it's fruits – apples – and small buds.

And as I stand admiring the view of the mountains surrounding the Capitol, I feel phantom arms slip around my mind. His skin is just as I remember as our fingers interlink, his soft lips kiss the skin at my neck as his silky hair brushes against my face. _"Don't be afraid,"_ he whispers in my ear.

I let out a mild laugh, "I am not afraid."

"_Defiant till the end."_ he replies softly. Suddenly, his grip around my goes weak and I turn swiftly to try and find him again but he is already walking away down the stone pathway.

"Don't leave me." I beg.

Cato's ghostly figure turns to face me as I rush out onto the stone pathway. _"Never. I'll always been with you. But you have to try and win."_ he tells me.

Shaking my head, I run towards him, stopping only centimetres from his body. "I need to be with you again."

"_Our son needs you. I want you to be with him."_

I can't look up at him. "But I want to be with you."

"_In time, you a lifetime ahead of you."_ he tells me with a smile. _"And I'll be waiting for the right time to come and collect you again." _And then, with a gust of wind, Cato's figure is swept away with nature, leaving me alone once again.

The day is spent with me eating, laying in the sun, snapping off hanging vines and using them to practise knot-tying techniques. And then, I make up a game using the forcefield that surrounds the roof that keeps me occupied for an hour or two – I pick off an apple of reasonable size before throwing it at the forcefield and attempting to catch it before it hits the floor. No one bothers me until late afternoon when I hear the pinging off the elevator inside the glass conservatory. I don't turn around to see who is stepping out onto the roof because of two reasons. Number one: I don't actually care and number two: I suspect that whoever this person is, they are up here for the same reason I am, to be away from the hidden cameras and microphones, to be able however I was here first so I don't bother stopping my game of throwing an apple against the forcefield and catching it. Praying that the person won't bother me, I continue to act like I am the only one up here.

"I knew you'd be up here." the rich and confident voice of Finnick Odair breaks through the electric buzzing noises emitted from the forcefield once the apple is flung from the suicide preventer.

Shrugging, I continue to throw and catch the apple. "What do you want? A medal for checking the only other place I could be in the Capitol?" I ask sarcastically without turning to look at him. I was aggravated with Finnick due to his icy reaction to my private session. Finnick's arm suddenly appears in the space between me and the apple as he catches the object before I have time to register it and to ruin my fun completely, he takes a large bite out of the fruit before discarding it on the grassy ground. "What is your problem Finnick?" I growl angrily.

"You're my problem!" he hisses back.

Raising my arms upwards in a question gesturing, "Me? Is this about my training scores! Jesus Christ Finnick, I could have spent the entire time with the Gamemakers singing and doing cartwheels and they still would have given me a twelve!" I yell.

"That's my point Anastasia!" he hisses, "They are targeting you for elimination in those Games and you're not exactly helping yourself."

I let out a stifled laugh. "So what?!" I bellow in his face, "The odds are in my favour, they never were and they never will be. I will be shipped home to my brother and son nothing more than a white corpse in a wooden box. Lucas won't know me, I will never be able to hold him, kiss him or even look at him again. You said it yourself, last year was kids play, death was escapable because non of us had a clue. All experienced killers, you said it yourself Finnick, including you in that."

Finnick looks at me, his face harder than marble. "That's not true... I –"

"Don't even bother to lie to me." I interrupt in a shallow voice warn out by shouting. "Why do you even care?"

It was Finnick's turn to laugh at me, "Are you kidding? I've known you for years, I trained your sister, your brother and you. You are not my friend, you are my family. I would do anything to ensure your safety back home so what makes you think I would think twice about doing it in the arena? You're my only piece of home in there." he says, the last sentence of his speech caught me by surprise and his voice merges into Garrett's.

"Don't quote Garrett at me." I warn.

Finnick knew he had stepped over a line, I didn't even get to see Garrett before he died however he warned me using his death about the mutations. Sometimes I wonder at night if he saw me coming and couldn't shout. Powerless. Finnick doesn't apologise, I don't expect him too, that isn't his style because he made an impression. Made me remember.

"Can I ask one last thing from you?" I ask in a whisper, afraid that I might be heard. My district partner/ex-mentor looked up at me with surprise in his eyes, my voice was calm by my face still looked miserable. He nods. "Promise me you'll try and get the male Avox back to District 4 if you win?"

"How do you expect me to do that?" he asks bluntly.

I shrug, "Pay money, offer something so big that President Snow couldn't refuse."

"Why should I do that?"

"Because that boy ran away from these Games and he's forced to serve the children he may have went to school with. It isn't fair." I reply stepping forwards to challenge him.

Finnick smirks at my childish attempt to size him up. "What about Leila, don't you care about her now?"

"I've helped her enough." I snarl.

He steps forwards almost closing the gap between us in an angry states. "Oh really, how? Punching her in the face or snapping at her every time she attempted to take you out and get you socialised?"

That hurt more than him quoting Garrett Larkin. Personal attacks was something I never expected from Finnick Odair, not in a million years. And with once last pain filled glance, I step around him and leave, but not before saying bluntly as I walk passed, "I helped her escape."

Then, I head back down into the living quarters. Leila and the boy Avox are stood waiting instructions inside the kitchen and living room however they look confused by the lack of human presence in the space they have been given to maintain.

"Can I eat dinner early?" I ask.

The Avox boy nods, looking pleased to finally have something to do. He and Leila collect the various items I have asked for and bring them to the breakfast bar before handing me a plate so I can serve myself. Surprisingly, I manage to eat rather a lot and no one else disturbs us. Once I had finished, I begin to stack up my plate and cutlery before beginning to move it when the boy Avox waves me back to the table before taking my dirty objects from me.

I grin at them, thanking them before heading off to my bedroom where I take a long shower before childishly trying on every outfit inside my wardrobe making incredibly stupid combinations of odd coloured clothes Dieter would have a fit if he saw them together. And on finding a pair of heels with a four inch heel, I slip them on and practise my walking which hasn't improved at all since the last time I wore them a year ago. However I feel rather satisfied that I'm giving the Capitol attendants in charge of keeping an eye on the tributes a good laugh before my departure. I don't go and join the others for dinner, and no one summons me so I don't feel like they want me therefore I continue my childish ways of ordering food and eating until I feel sick and dressing up like a idiot until I cannot be bothered to change clothes anymore.

By bedtime, my room is a pigsty decorated with expensive items of clothing and dirty plates and glasses. I made an effort to tidy up, throwing the clothes into the wardrobe before putting the plates into a small disposal. It's late by the time I have finally made my room Dieter Rollo acceptable before slipping into bed wearing only my undergarments and a long top.

**xxx**

_I'm always running, there is no fighting now. Only running. I can hear their heavily breathes and echoing footsteps as they chase me. Like a deer trying to outrun a pack I am panicked and sprinting in whatever direction seems to call out to me. Their teasing shouts attack my ears giving me less of a chance to hear a problem before it happens. Suddenly, my feet are taken out from beneath me, my head smacks onto the solid ground before begin removed completely from the earth. The other victors shouts and footsteps get closer and closer before the other twenty-three are stood before me with murderous grins on their faces and weapons in their hands. Enobaria teasingly spin my body around as it dangles on the rope, she moves quickly to avoid the useless attempts to slice her with my blade. Despite my distorted eyesight, I can see Peeta, Johanna, Beetee and Finnick amongst the tributes. Beetee's eyes are the only ones diverted from my body._

"_Who would like to do the honours?" Enobaria asks pinching my cheeks harshly. I gather up spit in my mouth and project it onto her arena outfit, in return she punches me in the ribs causing several to crack. _

"_I will." a masculine voice echoed. My eyes fall upon the speaker. It was Finnick Odair, the group of other victors move aside so Mr Odair can make his way swiftly to me taking the blade from Brutus' hands. I stare at Finnick with a pleading expression, hoping and praying that he will cut me free whilst the other allies I created fight off the victors left. But no such luck was coming._

"_Finnick, no." I plead as he whips the blade clean on his sleeve. "Finnick! No!" He laughs like a mad-man before raising the blade to tease the flesh at my stomach before pushing in slightly making me whimper in main. "No! Finnick!" I scream as pain explodes from my stomach. _

I wake, panting as if I had been running a marathon and sweating like I had been in the bath with my clothes on. My heart is racing so quickly I'm surprised it hasn't broken my ribs but the beat of my heart only accelerates when a very tired yet looking Finnick Odair bursts into my bedroom wearing his casual night clothes. My district partner looks at me oddly for a moment as I pant and wipe the tears from my eyes using the bed cover, Finnick steps a little further into my bedroom but I wave him away, "It was just a nightmare, I'm fine. Go back to your room." I tell him sternly before rolling over to put my back to him and laying in the covers. I expect to hear Finnick huff angrily and the door slam once he'd left but neither of them follow, instead, the door is closed gently and my ex-mentor walks over to my bed.

"I'm not leaving, not after you've just have a nightmare about what I can only guess is me." Finnick says sternly, pulling back the corner of the cover allowing himself enough room before slipping off his slippers and climbing in bed next to me. I half obey his physical orders as he pulls up higher me in the bed before rolling me over to face him, resting my head on his chest. Finnick wraps his arms around me in a protective bubble. "Want to tell me what your dream was about?" he asked me.

I shrug against him, "You killed me. Well, I woke up before I died."

"You know I would never hurt you right?" Finnick whispers.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I whisper, "You did on the roof."

"I know, I'm sorry." he apologises.

A part of me knew that Finnick would never on purpose hurt me but that doesn't mean he will never hurt me without meaning. After the announcement of my training session joke and my score, Finnick and the others were obviously angry at me. That hurt knowing I had upset them. But then what is to happen in the arena? What if it's down to me and him and he only has a weapon? Will he think twice about killing me or will he tell me to kill him so I can go home? If one of us dies in the others arms? I can't go through that again, first Cato and then possibly Finnick. No, that isn't going to happen. Ever.

"What about in the Games?" I ask.

"What do you mean?" he asks.

Signing heavily, "What happens if it's just the two of us left?"

"What did I tell you before? That won't happen." Finnick replies sternly.

"How do you know that?" I ask.

Finnick's arm tighten around me, "Just trust me. Now go to sleep."

"But –"

"No buts, go to sleep we have a big day ahead of us." he says before kissing my head. "I'll stay."

"Promise?"

He nods, "Always."

And with Finnick Odair's protection, I sink down into sleep, enveloped in his warmth.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**_ So Anastasia and Finnick had a fight and then made up pretty quickly proving the pair are too close to allow bickering to get between them. How do you guys feel about what Finnick said on the roof, Anastasia's reaction and replies but what about the dream and quick make up session. Review and tell me! Also be sure to favourite and follow if you're enjoying. Next chapter is the Victors Interview so I wonder how that will go but I have a small surprise._


	32. Chapter 32: Victors Interviews

Chapter Thirty-Two.

**Victors Interviews.**

The next morning, I am aroused by my prep team. The sight of Finnick and I sharing a bed is far to much for Coren because he lets out a squeak that is so high pitched all the dogs in Panem became alert. Shazza looks almost like she is going to burst into tears but manages to contain herself. Finnick bids my prep team a good morning and goodbye before returning to his own room for prep and I'm left alone with my prep team. The usual chatter has been suspended. In fact, there's little talk at all, other than to have me raise my chin or comment on a make-up technique. It's nearly lunch time when I feel something dripping on my shoulder and turned to find Coren with silent tears running down his face. Shazza gives him a look and he gently sets down the scissors on the table and leave.

Then it's just Shazza, whose skin is paler than usual and her expression is ridged with determination, she does my hair, nails and make-up. Fingers flying swiftly to compensate for her absent team-mate, the entire time she avoided my gaze. It's only when Vibia shows up to approve me and dismisses her that she takes my hand, looks me straight in the eye, and says, "We would all like you to know what a... privilege it has been to make you look your best throughout our times together." Then she hastens from the room.

My prep team. My foolish, shallow, affectionate pets with their obsessions with feathers and parties, nearly break my heart with their goodbyes. It's certain from Shazza's last words that they think I won't be returning. _Does everyone think that? _I wonder, I look at Vibia. She knows, certainly. But as she promised, there is no danger of tears from her.

"So, what am I wearing tonight?" I ask, eyeing up the garment bag that holds my dress.

Vibia hangs the bag up before unzipping it, revealing a beautiful blue ball gown the bottom looked like a waterfall of blue, green and silver silk sewed into ruffles. The top of the dress was pale blue but only decorated with jewel's. Vibia helps me carefully into the dress, as it settles on my shoulders, I cannot help but give a shrug of complain, "How come it's so heavy?" I ask, I remember the other outfits not being very heavy at all but this one feels as if it weights a ton.

"I've made from important alterations because I want you to twirl tonight." Vibia commands. "But not right away, save it until the very end."

I raise my eyebrows at her, "You want me to twirl?"

She nods but doesn't elaborate on that.

"Will you give me a signal so I know?" I ask. Again, Vibia just nods whilst touching up my make-up and gives me a beautiful necklace to wear. My stylist asks me what my angle is and I simply shrug explaining that Mags and Dieter have allowed me to act on my own. And I'm not nervous at all, not even slightly because no matter how much President Snow may hate me, the Capitol audience is mine.

We meet up with Dieter, Mags, Tiberius and Finnick at the elevator. Finnick is wearing a white open shirt tucked into a pair of leather trousers with knee high boots and a golden sash around his waist. Once down onto the corridor just off-stage, many of the other tributes have already gathered off stage and are talking softly, but when Finnick and I arrive, one or two pairs fall silent. Are they jealous of the training score I didn't earn? Afraid that the beauty of my dress with throw the Capitol audience in my direction? It doesn't bother me and we line up behind Beetee and Wiress who tell me how beautiful I look. When Johanna arrives she throws her arms around me, earning her several hissing remarks from my prep-team about the cleanness of my look and also from the other tributes who question this act of friendship.

"Make him pay for it, OK?" she says straightening out a curl that has fallen loose.

A Capitol attendant tells us there will be something different about the layout of this interview. Instead of all the tributes – aside from the one on-stage – being away from the watchful eyes of the audience backstage. At the back of the main stage, two platforms have been set up in front of the large television screen so the victors can stand in full view of the audience for the entire time the interviews are going on for. On the highest platform, the pairs from District 1 to 6 will be stood and on the second platform, the pairs from District 7 to 12 will be stood. Like last year, we are instructed to do a walk around the main stage allowing the crowd to gobble our images up before the victors from One to Six are to walk beneath the second platform – through decorated doors – to reach the hidden stairs that take us up to and down from the platform we stand on, whereas the victors from Seven to Twelve only have to walk up stairs to the side of them.

Caesar Flickerman bounces onto the stage with happiness and delight with hair coloured in lavender and a matching suit that sparkles in the lights of the stage, he completes his opening spiel and the tributes begin their interviews. This is the first time I realise the depth of betrayal felt among the victors before me and the rage that accompanies it. But they are smart, so wonderfully smart about how they play it because it all comes back to reflect on the government and President Snow in particular. There are the odd throwbacks like Enobaria and Brutus who are just back here for another Games. But I'm sure there are enough victors who still have the wits and the nerves to come out fighting.

Gloss starts the ball rolling as he recalls the kindness shown here to him and his sister. Cashmere gives a speech about how she just can't stop crying when she thinks of how much the people in the Capitol must be suffering because they will lose us. Beetee questions the legality of this Games in his nervous, twitchy way, wondering if it's been fully examined by experts of late. When Finnick is called down, he gives me a gentle squeeze on my hand before disappearing down the back of the stage and reappearing below it in a cloud of dramatic fog and lighting illuminating him on the stage. There are cries of happiness and of lust as my district partner greets Caesar with a warming hug before the interview continues.

Caesar and Finnick have a good laugh about his games and his tactics for this Game. When Finnick is asked how he feels fighting beside me instead of mentoring me, he humbly replies, "Anastasia is a fighter, I have no issue fighting beside her because we are family. We protect each other." Of course, the crowd releases gentle sounds of sobs and sentiment, the cameras pan over to me to capture my reaction but I simply smile allowing them to gobble up my image.

"Now, Finnick, before we go," Caesar says with a grin, "I understand you have a message for someone out there. A special someone. Can we hear it?"

The entire rooms draws in a collective breath as Finnick straightens up to stare into the camera over Caesar's shoulder wanting to make eye contact with Annie who will be watching this. "My love... you have my heart, for all eternity... and... if I die in that arena, my last thoughts will be of your lips." Finnick's voice shakes with emotion he tries to hide not wanting to crack in front of his fellow victors and in the audience, about hundred Capitol men and women faint before they're sure he means them which makes me chuckle. After three minutes, Caesar informs Finnick that is all the time they have tonight, he wishes Finnick good luck for the Games tomorrow before allowing him to trail off into the doorway whilst he introduces the next victor – me.

"Now it's time for a very special victor." Caesar teases the audience who cheer randomly in reply, "She is the center of a romance and pregnancy that took the entire nation by surprise and a birth that filled everyone with joy." he chuckles letting the audience react with awh's and short replies amongst themselves, "Ladies and Gentlemen, you know her as Anastasia Hollern but I know her as the Princess of Panem!"

The crowd sounds louder than before however I keep my nerves dead as I make my way down the steps and through the doors being temperately blinded by the fog used for a dramatic entrance. Caesar extends his arm out for me to shake but I go a step further and lean forwards to kiss him lightly. As the crowd continues to scream and cheer, I can see Caesar's professionalism showing come cracks as he tries to quiet them down so we can chat but my three minutes are ticking quickly away.

Finally, there's a lull and he gets out, "So, Anastasia, this entire situation must be very emotional for you. Is there a message or anything you would like to say?" he asks.

My voice trembles as I speak, "Only that, if my son and brother are watching tight now, I just want to say that I love you both with all my heart and I'm going to try my hardest to get back home to you." The crowd releases sympathetic sounds as Caesar comes and takes my hand giving me a silent and unseen gesture of comfort. Then I catch Vibia's eye in the crowd, she raises her hand discreetly beside her face and twirls her finger. It's time to twirl for the audience. "Caesar, how do you like my dress?" I ask.

He inspects it, "Beautiful, absolutely beautiful. Maybe the audience would like it, give us a twirl." he suggests.

I grin and step forwards, when I hear screams from the crowd, I just think it's generally because I must look stunning however then I notice something rising around me. Smoke from a fire. Not the flickery stuff I have seen from Peeta and Willow's Victor Parade costumes but something much more real that devours my dress. I begin to panic as the smoke thickens. Charred bits of blue and green silk swirl into the air with jewels clattering on the stage. Somehow I'm not afraid to stop because my flesh doesn't seem to be burning and I know Vibia must be behind what is happening. So I keep spinning and spinning, for a split second I am gasping, completely engulfed in the strange flames. Then, all at once, the flames are washed away but a tidal wave of water that appears from nowhere and disappears into smoke as it travels down my body removing the flames and burnt up material and becomes fog at my feet. I slowly come to a stop, wondering if I am naked and why Vibia has arranged to burn away my dress on stage.

But I'm not naked – thank goodness – but I'm in a dress of the exact same style as my previous gown however this dress is the colour of coal and made of tiny feathers arranged with white tips and shimmering shades. Something tugs on the back and as I raise my arms out to my side, a set of wings matching the feather arrangement of my dress follow my movements. That's when I see myself on the television screen.

Vibia has turned me into a mockingjay.

The crowd has suddenly become hysterical in cheers and screams of happiness. Caesar steps closer and touches my wings delicately. "Feathers." he whispers to himself before repositioning the microphone to his lips, "You're a bird. Its familiar – it's a..."

"A mockingjay." I reply with a smiling that matches Vibia has she claps humbly. "It's the same bird me and my allies used to communicate in the arena."

A shadow of recognition flickers across Caesar's face and I can tell he knows that the mockingjay isn't just the whistle me and my allies used in the arena for safety. That it symbolizes so much more. That what will be seen as a flashy costume change in the Capitol is resonating in an entire different ways throughout the districts. But he makes the best of it, as always.

"Well, hats off to your stylist. I don't think anyone can argue that that's not the most spectacular thing we've ever seen in an interview. Vibia, my love, I think you better take a bow!" Caesar gestures for Vibia to rise. She does and makes a small, gracious bow. And suddenly, I am afraid for her. What has she done? Something terribly dangerous. An act of rebellion in itself. And she's done it for me. I remember her words... _"Don't worry, I always channel my emotions into my work. That way I don't hurt anyone but myself." _… and I'm afraid she has hurt herself beyond repair. The significance of my fiery transformation will not be lost on President Snow.

The audience breaks into wild applause so loud that I can barely hear the buzzer that indicates that my three minutes are up. Caesar thanks me but cannot say I'm leaving because even he cannot speak over the crowd. The victors looked mixed about my transformation but it's when Finnick takes my hand, it happens. Up and down all the rows, the victors begin to hold hands. Some right away like Peeta and Willow, the morphlings and Wiress and Beetee. Others unsure but caught up in the demands as Finnick takes hands with Enobaria and I with the District 5 male tribute. Soon, all twenty-four victors are stood in an unbreakable line, hand in hand which must be the first public show of unity amongst the districts since the Dark Days. You can see the realization of this as the screens begin to pop into darkness. It's too late, through. In the confusion that after the eighth victor, we have all had enough, they didn't cut us off in time. Everyone has seen.

There's disorder on the stage. They cannot continue on with the interview now and so we all stumble back into the Training Centre. Many still holding hands however I have lost the male from District 5's hand and Finnick guides me through the crowd of victors, some – like Johanna – who are pleaded the interviews finished so early and others who are pissed off they didn't get their final say. I understand their point of view but in my opinion, if you didn't want to hold another persons hand in an open display of unity. No one was holding a gun to your head. You could of refused but no one did.

Finnick takes me into the elevator, holding onto my arm protectively as Johanna and Peeta try to join us but a harried Peacekeeper blocks their way and we shoot upwards alone. The moment we step out of the elevator, I grip Finnick's shoulders tightly. "Is there anything I have to apologise for?" I ask panting.

"Absolutely nothing," he tells me firmly before wrapping his arms around me unexpectedly and brings me into a comforting hug. Somewhere, very far away, is a place called District 4 where my brother and son and friends will have to deal with the fallout from this night. Just a brief hovercraft ride away is an arena where, tomorrow, Finnick and I and the other tributes will face our own form of punishment. But even if all of us meet terrible ends, something happened on that stage tonight that cannot be undone. We victors staged our own uprising. After a moment of silence, we make out way – still tangled in each others arms – into the living quarters were we ordered hot chocolate and sat waiting for the others to arrive back.

After five minutes, of them not returning I begin to panic but several seconds later, Dieter arrives looking rather frazzled as he keeps his arm link with Mags who looks gob-smacked by the outcome of tonight's events.

"Everyone has been sent home, they're not continuing on with the interviews and cancelled the recaps of the interviews that took place." Dieter informs us. "Don't worry, you'll have time with your stylists tomorrow, Vibia isn't having much luck getting through the mob." That doesn't surprise me, my dress transformation will be the most talked about thing in the nation and Vibia is the mastermind behind the entire thing. She is now one of the most famous people in Panem.

Finnick and I move so the four of us create an odd circle. "I guess this is where we say our goodbyes." I say. Mags cups my face in her hands and gives me a very light kiss on the lips before retracting from my face with a beautiful, elderly smile that made her blue eyes glisten. Since she couldn't speak, I assumed that was her good luck and goodbye to me, I was happy with that, the smile that made my heart flutter with happiness. The elderly woman does the same thing to Finnick before trailing off to her bedroom with tears living her eyes leaving Finnick and myself with Dieter whose eyes where already lined with tears.

Dieter says nothing and instead pulls out one of the chairs from the dinning table and takes out a small black paper back with a silk ribbon tied around the handle of the item. He opens the bag and removes a small dark blue box with the engraving, _A.H. _And hands it too me before handing another small dark blue box which has _F.O. _On the top.

"You're new trinkets. We are a team." Dieter says. I don't open mine with fear I may cry and show weakness in my last moments with Dieter. "And I would just like to say, it has been an honour being your escort and I will never, ever forget you." he mumbles through his near-sobs, I leap into Dieters arms and it amazes me that he doesn't push me off or tense, in fact, he embraces the hug with both hands.

"Thank you, Dieter." I say to him, leaning up to kiss his cheek softly before stepping back allowing Finnick to say his goodbyes to the man who wasn't his escort but kept him company throughout the Games and during the Victory Tours. After realising that Finnick is whispering and keeps looking back at me, I leave and head towards my bedroom ready to strip off my dress and crawl into the sheets however like my first Games, I cannot see much sleep coming tonight.

Throwing down my trinket box, completely terrified to open it and review the inside. Finnick doesn't knock, he just enters. "Any last words of advice?" I ask, completely thankful that I had removed my dress and replaced it with a pair of loose fitting trousers and a baggy t-shirt, Finnick steps in and closes the door behind himself.

"Collect a weapon. Stay alive. Find allies and I'll come to you." he orders in small sentences, shuffling slightly forwards, my heart rattled in my chest as one of his hands snaked around my waist and the other slide up to the back of my neck, hiding the tips of his fingers in the hair at the base of my skull. He was close, too close. It didn't take long for Finnick's face to be directly in front of us, so close that if I moved even slightly the tips of our noses brushed. Watching him wet his lips with the tip of his tongue – a move that made most people go crazy – and then lean in to brush his lips against mine. It was almost as if he was testing the water, and in reaction to the gesture my body went ridged and wouldn't give in. We remained joined for a little over three seconds before Finnick removed himself from me. It wasn't romantic and I'm certain that was the purpose, a goodbye kiss and I suddenly feel guilty it happened. What about Annie? Yes it wasn't romantic but it was still a kiss. Does that count? Oh, I'm so confused. "See you in the morning." he whispers before moving away from me and out of the bedroom.

I remain stood there fore several minutes before I force my body to move towards the sink where I wash off my face of well constructed make-up, willing myself to forget Finnick Odair until the morning.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**_ Yes that happened, the mockingjay outfit and the hand holding was such a hit against the Capitol they cancelled the rest of the interviews. This could make Anastasia even more of an target in the arena as most of the other tributes won't be able to say goodbye to love ones. What did you guys think of this chapter. Review!_


	33. Chapter 33: Night Before The Games

Thirty-Three.

**A Little Compassion.**

I lay stiller than death with my eyes fixed on the same spot of the ceiling. I can feel the minutes ageing me as hours flicker by with no hint of sleep. I remove myself from the covers of my bed and stumble in the dark over to the table where the trinket box from Dieter sat waiting patiently to be opened. Turning on the bedroom light I am able to study the box in more detail, when I touch it carefully I discover the cover protecting the wooden box beneath his dark blue velvet with my initials written in golden letters which are carefully inscribed into the top. I open the lid to the back revealing the trinket inside to be a medallion instead of a bracelet like last year, the front is designed with the Panem symbol for District Four: a fishing hook with three spikes and three fish either side, the center fish is bigger than it's companions. I turn it over in my hand to read the inscription on my back that reads, _you're braver than you believe, stronger than you seem and smarter than you think. _As my fingers slip against the front, it removes itself from the original medallion. From the center two flaps open revealing three black and white photos.

Both a smile and tears decorate my face as my eyes flicker across the various faces as I study the three photos kept safety inside the locket trinket from my escort. From left to right, the photos were of: my brother, Michael and my sister Maria – who volunteered to take my place several Games before the 84th – it must have been an old school photo because I wasn't included and normally when school photos come about, the students which are siblings are made to have photos together. Both of my siblings are young and smiling with happiness, something I haven't seen from them in years. The second photo was of Lucas taken a couple of days after we returned, even in black and white, his gorgeous blue eyes shine through with his blonde hair messy from a bath and a toothless grin. And the last photo was of Cato Ludwig, the first and no doubt, last, love of my life. I don't recognise the location of his photo but he is central and alone with a genuine smile I had been at the mercy of plenty of time.

Beforehand, I knew my son looked like his father but it wasn't until I had their pictures side by side that I realised the extent of their similarities. The cheekiness of their smiles, the natural wave of messiness in their hair and the breathtaking glimmer in their eyes. The father and son that never got to meet each other.

Placing the locket back into the box in which it was delivered in, I dash out of my room knowing that I must say thank you to Dieter. The living room is bare of human life, so is the balcony and dinning room. Mags and Finnick must be in their bedrooms which means that Dieter, also must have an accommodation here in the living quarters. Problem was finding the right one for I had never really paid much attention to where Dieter went to sleep or rest however I had a vague idea due to the direction in which he fled before the televised private session results. Due to the lack of my brother, me and Finnick where given only Mags as a mentor to limit our chances of survival. Therefore, the bedroom that Michael would have stayed in during my first Games would be empty and open for Dieters use, this happens to be the direction I watched my escort disappear in when I had upset him.

Mags has got ears like a cat despite her old age so when I sneak passed her bedroom, I make sure not to wake her as I nervously make my way to Dieters bedroom. From beneath the door frame I can see a faint trace of light suggesting he is either awake or sleeps with the light on. I'm really hoping it's the first one as I knock on the wooden door creating faint echoes around the gloomy living apartment. There is shuffling on the other side of the door but Dieter doesn't open the door.

"Dieter, it's Anastasia." I speak in a whisper with my lips almost pressed against the crook of the door. There is more shuffling but the door doesn't open. Sighing heavily, I tap more on the bedroom door knowing that Dieter is aware of my presence outside his bedroom, growing annoyed by Dieter not answering the door. I use my hand to twist the door handle before pushing it open, expecting some resistance but there is non.

The bedroom was strangely messier than my own however unlike my own bedroom, Dieters was messy with expensive Capitol suits, ties, jewellery and items of furniture such as pillows, all which my escort must have brought from his own home in the Capitol. Dieter Rollo was stood out on the balcony that extended on from his bedroom, I close the door silently behind me completely in the dark about whether he heard me or not but judging by the shuffles behind the door earlier, he knows that I am wanting to see him but I suspect he wanted me to leave instead of enter his living quarters without permission.

The balcony had a more beautiful view than the roof as we peek through the buildings that are lit up like the new year. Sparkling colours of multicoloured lights and clothing from the extravagant people of the Capitol. Dieter is leant up against the railing his fingers interlinked with each other as he stared out towards the city without showing any indication he had noticed me, not even when I slide up beside him, brushing our shoulders together.

"How come my bedroom doesn't have a balcony?" I ask with genuine curiosity.

For the first time since I've known Dieter Rollo, he was speechless. Simply shrugging was his only way to communicate with me, from a side profile I could also see that the glamorous escort was washed clean of any trace of make-up leaving soft tanned skin which compliments his Asian features much better than looking whiter than a geisha however his features are drained of energy, his cheeks deepen making his cheekbones poke out unnaturally with dark circles beneath his eyes which were hidden from any eye in the Capitol with the use of strong chemical make-up.

I turned to look at my escort, his face is cold and unwelcoming but as a single tear travels the length of his face originating from Dieter's dull and tired eyes, it's at that moment I just want to wrap my arms around him but I re-frame, "What's the matter" I ask.

Dieter signs heavily wiping his tears from his cheeks in order to hide them from me using the sleeve of his velvet suit, "Nothing is the matter." my escort replies defensively.

Raising my eyebrows at him, I lean in to ask, "When why are you crying?"

He lets out an incredibly choked laugh, "Anastasia, I have no idea," he admits. I also released a chuckle at Dieter's stubbornness to not break escort character. I could tell me was hurting inside but god-forbid he show such unprofessional traits in front of a tribute.

"Thank you for my trinket." I say to him as I stare out into the city, I can feel his stare burning into the side of my head as he studies my expression.

"You love it?" he asks.

Nodding, I turn around to connect eyes with me. "I liked it but something upset me about it."

Dieter turns sharply to face me fully, I didn't zip round to face him instead I remained facing the city, "It wasn't the photo of Maria and Michael was it? You weren't comfortable with the picture of Cato? Lucas? You didn't like the black and white?!" he spoke so quickly my eardrums felt like they were being assaulted.

I raise my hands up in a mocking surrender, silently trying to stop Dieter rambling on and on, "No Dieter, I love the trinket but I was upset that you weren't in it." I reply turning to face him only to be engulfed in Dieters large arms.

"I'm really going to miss you." he whispers in my ear.

I grin into his shoulder, "Not giving up on me yet are you?" I ask in a teasing tone.

Dieter laughs, removing his arms that engulf me in warmth. "Never in a million years." he vows, I grin and he presses his forehead against mine before kissing it tenderly. But then he brushes his hands through my hair like a person would to check the evenness of the lengths. Dieter then crinkles his face us in almost disgust.

"What?" I ask in confusion pulling away from Dieters slender fingers.

"You need a haircut." he says before touching my shoulder to guide me inside to his bedroom where he pulls out a chair and then ordering me to sit. I obey consumed with fear as he removed a pair of gold plated stork scissors.

Confused, "Why do I need a haircut?" I ask.

Dieter laughs, "If you think I'm going to let one of my victors enter the arena with hair like that, you're wrong missy." He then slowly begins to snip away the overgrown hair, his soft fingers graze against my scalp as he ensures my hair sits perfectly. It must have been half an hour before Dieter gives any indication he is almost finished, he chops a fair it from my fringe making it just below my ear on my right side. The final snip comes just in front of my left ear. "Done." my escort announces, he orders that my eyes are shut before guiding me into the bathroom. I then open my eyes to see a complete fresh face in the mirror, the left side and all the way around to the back of the right ear is short and all the same length without flicks of curly hair threatening to break loose, my fringe is thinner but not necessary shorter. The tips graze against the bottom of my earlobe.

"Now you're ready." he tells me rubbing my shoulders.

Turning around, I lung onto my escort to engulf him in a tight hug. "Thank you."

Dieter rubs my shoulders tenderly before gently pushing me off, "Go and get some sleep, you'll need all your strength for tomorrow." he instructs pulling in for once last hug before releasing me, I find my own way out of the bedroom, passed Mags bedroom and back into mine.

Placing on my trinket before slipping into my bed, I breath in the familiar smells around me, shampoo, lotion, freshly washed clothes, stale food and cups with old hot chocolate marks however the new smell that invaded my bedroom was Dieters smell, aftershave and general cleanness. My bed sheets smelt of me with a hint of Finnick that was comforting. However I miss the smell of my son and brother, those smells that have programmed themselves into me that seems the most natural. Smells that I will never get to witness again.

I wonder what the arena is going to be like tomorrow. This is a very special Hunger Games meaning that it should be a very special arena. It could be anything. Desert? Frozen waste land? Forest? Mountains? As I relax properly, the countdown inside my head really started. The countdown to my execution had begun.

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><p><strong>AN:**_ A special moment between Dieter and Anastasia was much needed I think but did you guys like it? Please review. _

_P.S. Oh, also, are any of you a fan of Teen Wolf or Sherlock? Just curious. _


	34. Chapter 34: Let The Games Begin

Chapter Thirty-Four.

**Let The Games Begin.**

Like the time before, Vibia is the only person I come into contact with that morning in the living quarters. I dress into a simple outfit suitable to the hovercraft ride to the catacombs beneath the arena. The walk to the elevator was short as was the ride to the roof where the hovercraft is stationed. Two Peacekeepers wait and escort us into the craft where the bay doors shut behind us, sealing me inside. The same doctor from last year infects me with a tracker into my forearm so the Gamemakers will be able to locate me in the arena. The hovercraft takes off and I look out of the window until they black out. Vibia keeps pressuring me to eat but she really needn't because my senses kick in and the reality of not knowing when my next meal will be, I stuff food into my mouth so quickly I get shrapnel wounds around my face, and after a while Vibia urges me to drink water but as I sip from the glass, my mind flickers back to the days of dehydration that almost killed me last year, it was the days after my last ally Cassandra was killed. The days where living and fighting didn't seem worth anything. Once the hovercraft has landed, Vibia and I take the glass tube elevator takes us down into the tunnels where a Capitol attendant tells Vibia the way to our assigned room where I will get ready.

When we reach the Launch Room beneath the arena, I shower until Vibia orders me out. She helps me into simple undergarments and gels my hair away from my face. This year's tribute outfit is a fitted blue jumpsuit with black and dark grey sections over the outer-thighs and chest with a pale, light grey sections over the shoulders, any non-black sections were patterned with hexagons in a honeycomb pattern. Elbow and knee pads were build into the appropriate parts of the body and a pair of nylon shoes with rubber soles.

"What do you think?" I ask pulling small sections of the jumpsuit which is skin tight.

She frowns and rubs the thin stuff between her fingers, "It's light and thermal. If I had to guess I'd say water, tropics or desert."

A small spark lights up inside me, "Water?" I ask.

Vibia nods, "It's possible." she replies, a small weight is removed from my chest. I can survive in water. Vibia takes the gold mockingjay pin from her pocket and fixes it to my jumpsuit however it doesn't feel right. The mockingjay was Katniss Everdeen's trinket, not mine. It's something she used as a symbol for hope, I used the call for safety.

"I already have a trinket." I tell her momentarily removing the locket medallion from beneath my jumpsuit. Vibia smiles at me knowingly however she doesn't remove the pin from my suit. "The dress last night was fantastic." I say, brilliant and reckless but Vibia must know that.

Last year, we sat holding hands until a voice over the speakers told me to get ready for launch. This year was different, Vibia makes me leap about to make sure everything fits perfectly as it should and that I can move around freely. "_Tributes, prepare for launch." _the voice of an unknown male echoes throughout the eerie room, my stylist walks me over to the circular and zips up the neck of my jumpsuit securely.

"I'm still betting on you, Princess." she tells me before engulfing me in a hug, I don't cry because Vibia doesn't, our emotions and feelings are there but they're unspoken.

Suddenly, the door behind Vibia and in front of me bursts open and three Peacekeepers spring into the room. Two try and rip Vibia from me whilst the other tries to push me into the launch tube. With one swift head-butt, I knock the Peacekeeper trying to push me into the tube out of action rather quickly, the faint feeling of warmth in my hairline forces me to let down my guard to push my palm from the center to the top of my forehead, collecting the blood that leaked from a cut made on the impact of my head-butt. One of the Peacekeepers that handcuffed Vibia's hands behind her back also tries to wrestle me onto the tribute launch pad, he effectively wraps his arms around my waist avoiding the swings from my arms and shoves me into the tube just in time for the glass cylinder to enclose me. I watch the Peacekeeper which I head-butt regain to his feet, he stares at me with hateful eyes pulling on a pair of studded gloves before landing a strong punch onto Vibia's face opening up several gashes. I'm screaming my head off, banging on the unyielding glass, trying to reach her.

The Peacekeeper with studded gloves throws Vibia's almost limp body against the glass of the cylinder, her face hits the glass smearing it with blood. "I'm sorry." I mouth as we make brief eye contact. Vibia doesn't reply, she just smiles. A simple grin that sends waves of determination through me. The Peacekeeper's ignore me completely as they drag Vibia's limp body from the Launch Room, leaving nothing more but smears of blood on the floor.

Consumed with terror and anger, I feel the plate beneath my feet begin to rise. I'm still leaning against the glass when a warm breeze catches my hair and I force myself to stand up straight. Just in time because the glass is retreating and I'm standing free in the arena. The ground is bright and shiny, I squint down at my feet to see that my metal plate is surrounded by blue waves that lap up over my boots. Slowly, I raise my eyes and take in the water spreading out in every direction. Flickers of almost happiness burst to life in my chest, I felt like I was back at home in District 4 surrounded by water however the image of Vibia haunts me, beaten and bloody. Where is she now? What are they planning to do to her? Torture her? Kill her? Turn her into an Avox? The cut hidden in my hairline pulses as I gather myself up. Obviously her assault was suppose to unhinge me the same way Leila's presence in my quarters was. And it _has _cracked me but I refuse to be unhinged, I refuse to be shattered after all I have been through. I must be strong, powerful like water. I owe it to Vibia who risked everything by undermining President Snow and turning my beautiful dress into a symbol of rebellion. I owe it to the silly people who might be fighting to bring down the Capitol at this moment. And I owe it to Michael, Finnick and Alden who have risked everything to help me stay alive during my first games. My final refusal is not to play the Games on anyone's terms but my own, my last act of rebellion. Therefore, I grit my teeth taking deep breathes to calm my beating heart rate and force myself to become a player again.

"Ladies and gentlemen, let the Eighty-fifth Hunger Games begin!" the voice of Claudius Templesmith, the Hunger Games announces, hammers my ears. I have less than a minute to get my bearings. Then the gong will sound and the tributes will be free to move off their metal pedestals allowing the victors to either kill or run.

_Sixty... fifty-nine... _I can still make no sense of my surroundings. _Where are you? _I demand an answer from myself and slowly the world around me comes into _focus... fifty-six... fifty-five... _Blue water with equally as clear skies with a white-hot sun beating down. The Cornucopia's in front of me, the shining gold metal horn, about forty meters away... _fifty... forty-nine... _At first, it appears to be sitting on a circular island but on closer examination, I see the thin strips of land radiating from the circle like the spokes on a wheel. I think there are ten to twelve and they seem to be equal distance from one another_... forty-five... forty-four... _Between the spokes, is all water and a pair of tributes. That's it, then, there are twelve spokes, each with two tributes balanced on metal plates between them_... forty-three... forty-two... _The other tribute in my watery wedge is old Cecelia from District 8. She's about as far to my left as the land strip to my right_... forty... thirty-nine... _Beyond the water, wherever you look, a narrow beach and then dense greenery. I scan the circle for Finnick but I can't find him which panics me_... thirty-six... thirty-five... _He must be blocked from view by the Cornucopia, I catch the view of Peeta who is readying himself_... thirty... twenty-nine... twenty-eight... _I catch a handful of water as it splashes me and smell it, touching the tip of my tongue to my fingertips. It's salty_... twenty-three... twenty-two... twenty-one... _Connecting eyes with Brutus, is he four tributes to my left leaving out Cecelia, he manages to send shivers down my spine as he snarls. Gloss is to my right across the strip of land_... nineteen... eighteen... seventeen... _He is looking around, no doubt for his sister, Cashmere. The tributes around me are all ready to pounce into the water but I am not_... fourteen... thirteen... twelve... _As my vision flickers around the tributes, they merge into last years batch. Peeta has morphed into Cato and Cecelia into the girl from District 8 whose wrist I broke in desperation for a survival pack_... ten... nine... eight... _Last year, the supplies were spread out quite a distance from the Cornucopia with the most valuable in the mouth, but this year, the entire collection of weapons, survival packs and other life saving items are piled at the seven-metre-high mouth_... seven... six... five... four... _There are no boats, no ropes, not even a bit of driftwood to cling onto for those victors that cannot swim. There's only one way to get to the Cornucopia, and that's swim_... three – ready... _I breath deeply taking in the salty water air_... two – steady... _I lean forward, bending my knees and steady myself_... one – go... _And then, the gong sounds, I don't hesitate to dive into the water taking it like a bird does to the sky.

The victor's Hunger Games, had officially begun.

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><p><strong>AN:** _That's the end of Part 2, what did you guys thing about this chapter? The Arena and of course what happened to Vibia?! Review and I'll see you in a few days or weeks with the newest part of Anastasia's story! Might be a little bit longer than usual updates because I'm actually writing a story of my own. See you soon.  
><em>


	35. Chapter 35: The Bloodbath

Chapter Thirty-Five.

**PART III: THE ENEMY.**

**The Bloodbath.**

The waves are choppy but with years of swimming experience and the lightness of my suit working in my favour, I navigate and cut through the water effortlessly. I pull myself, dripping wet, from the water on to the land strip and sprint down the jagged rock stretch to the Cornucopia. I can't see anyone else converging from my side although the gold horn blocks a good portion of my view however I don't let the thought of adversaries slow me down. I'm thinking like a Career now, and the first thing I want is to get my hands on a weapon.

The weapons glisten in the sunlight like diamonds and jewels, my eyes home in on a beautiful set of silver plated throwing knives protected and held in small pockets inside a two holster case designed to sit around the tops of my thighs with a strap that connects to a belt to keep the holster tight on my body. As quickly as I can, I strap the holster to my legs and adjust the straps before removing a black axe from the selection of weapons leaving two more for Johanna to chose from, when and if she gets here and I go in search of my allies.

Annoyingly, Willow is the tribute I come into contact with but I catch the sight of her just as she allows an arrow to fly towards Gloss who is approaching the Cornucopia, the steal tipped arrow sinks into his calf sending him plunging into the waves. The scraping sound of me removing a one of my throwing blades from my holster. Willow snaps round, arrow already removed from the quiver on her back and loaded into the bow. I can see where her misunderstanding comes from, possible Career Pack member with a throwing knife aimed ready to strike, the entire thing was portrayed all wrong.

"Where did you learn to swim in District Twelve?" I tease when she lets her arrow down.

"We have a big bathtub." she answers.

"You must," I say still smiling, "Do you like the arena?"

"Not particularly. But you should. They must have built it especially for you." she says with an edge of bitterness. It seems like it, anyway, with all the water when I bet only a handful of victors can swim. And this time in the training centre, the swimming pool was drained meaning there was no chance to learn. Therefore, either you came in here a swimming or you'd better be a really fast leaner. Even participation in the initial bloodbath depends on being able to cover twenty meters of water. That gives me and Finnick an enormous advantage.

I grin at her evilly as I wave my wrist about a little, making sure the trinket Haymitch gave me glistens in the artificial sun of the arena. "It's a good thing we're allies, right?" I question with a chuckle, I can see Willow's face soften a little at the sight of her mentors trinket, sensing it's a trap and that I might of stolen it, she tenses up sightly but I know Willow Combe is smarter than this, surely she must know it's signal, more of an order really, to trust me.

Behind her, I notice a tribute heading towards Willow with a knife out at full extension but I refuse to protect her until she agrees to have me as an ally. The footsteps of the District 5 male reaches Willow and her face crumbles with anger not wanting to take her eyes off me. "Fine!" she snaps.

"Duck!" I command in such a powerful voice, so different from my usual polite voice, that she follow my order immediately. My knife goes whizzing over her head and there's a sickening sound of impact as the blade sinks into the males throat. The man from District 5, the drunk who threw up on the sword-fighting floor and held my hand in our act of defiance, sinks to his knees as I free the blade from his throat.

"Don't trust One and Two." Willow warns me. I raise my eyebrows, I have no time to question this, she looses the string of her bow allowing the pressure to be released from the weapon. "I'll hold them off and you take that side, look for Peeta."

"And Finnick." I interject before wandering off around the side of the Cornucopia. I dart around a pile, about four spokes apart, Enobaria has just reached land. Either she is a slow swimmer or she assumed the water might be laced with dangers, which it could well be. Sometimes it's not good to consider too many scenarios. But now she is on the sand, they'll be here in a matter of seconds.

"Is there anything useful?" I hear Willow shout.

I quickly scan the pile on my side and find maces, swords, bows and arrows, trident, knives, spears, axes, nets, metallic objects I have no name fore... and nothing else. No survival packs, water bottles, food packages or tents.

"Weapons!" I call back, "Nothing but weapons!"

"Same here," she confirms, "Grab what you want and lets go."

I throw a knife at Enobaria, who's got in too close for comfort, but she's expecting it and dives back into the water before it can find its mark. Confident I was momentarily safe, I sling the spare gold bow and a quiver of arrows over my body, slide two long knives and a medium size sword into the holders in my belt. Willow comes to meet me around my side of the Cornucopia, "Do something about that, would you?" I say pointing towards a very powerful tribute – Brutus – barrelling towards us. His belt is undone and he has it stretched between his hands as a kind of shield. Willow shoots at him however Brutus manages to block the arrow with his belt before it can skewer his liver. Where it punctures the belt, a strange purple liquid spews forth, coating his face. As she reloaded, giving the deadly tribute a chance to lay flat on the ground and rolls a meter into the water.

"Let's get out of here." I say to Willow due to the fact of the last altercation has given Enobaria and injured Gloss time to reach the Cornucopia. Brutus is within shooting distance and somewhere, certainly, Cashmere is nearby, too. These four classic Careers will no doubt have a prior alliance. If I had Finnick by my side, I might consider trying to take them on however I don't, I have Willow and my worry about Finnick's safety and whereabouts has me nervous.

"Where's Finnick?" I ask.

Willow shrugs before wandering off around the side of the golden horn. "He's over here." she calls, I take off and follow Willow without a question. On the strip of land beside the Cornucopia, opposite a metal podium where one tribute would have been bound to for sixty seconds before we are released by the sound of the gong. I see Finnick with two silver plated tridents. In the water is a drenched and exhausted Peeta grappling against the waves, holding onto the metal to try and keep a float. Willow begins to remove the weapons from her waist, preparing to swim out and reach him without looking forward about brining Peeta in. I drop a hand on her shoulder.

"I'll get him." I say removing the bow and quiver of arrows from my back and my short sword. Willow looks uneasy about the idea, the idea that I am going to swim out there and drown Peeta whilst Finnick kills her off. It wouldn't be a bad plan but that isn't what we want to do. I place my bow and arrows on the jagged floor. Before either of them have time to object, I have positioned myself at the edge of the water. "Cover me." I demands before disappearing into water with a flawless dive.

I image Willow raising her bow, warding off any attackers from the Cornucopia but I'm almost certain no one seems interested in pursuing us. Sure enough, Cashmere reunited with her brother, Enobaria and Brutus have gathered, their pack formed already, picking over the weapons left. Coming up for air, I take a quick scan of the arena to see that most of the tributes are still trapped on their plates, terrified to take on the water.

"Need some help, Mr Mellark?" I tease playfully once I had reached him in a matter of seconds, Peeta's blue eyes soften at the sight of me and he smiles a little as obvious release floods him. "Give me your hand," I order lightly, Peeta doesn't hesitate and gives me his hand, I move it so it rests on my shoulder before urging him to remove his grip on the pedestal completely, I was surprised how much Peeta actually trusted me, turning him over I tell him to simply kick his legs as I wrap my arm across his chest with his back leant up against my body. My other arm propels us through the water with easy strokes. There's an expression that only displayed confusion as she watches me remove her district partner from the water to the sand of beach.

Peeta Mellark gives me a one arm hug, "I knew I made allies with you for a reason." he says playfully, our district partners join us on the beach, Finnick passes me my weapons. Peeta is unarmed and looks out of place amongst us therefore I sigh heavily and hand him the medium sized sword. He takes it without a second thought and tucks it into his belt. "Thank you." he whispers as Finnick urges we move.

In the salt water, I see Beetee flailing around in the waves but managing to keep his head above the water. It's then I remember back to the purple liquid that poured out of Brutus belt. It was a flotation device. I almost ask Finnick to wait so I can to and fetch Beetee and Wiress but he is three spokes over and I can't even see Wiress. For all I know, Willow and maybe even Peeta might kill them, so instead I suggest we move on. Finnick and Peeta agrees to my movements however Willow looks pissed off not by my comment but my existence. She places her bow onto her back and we all move away from the waters edge.

Where the sand ends, the thick greenery begins rising sharply. The word best to describe this isn't woodland but jungle. The word is foreign to me, I've heard it only from my father or other Hunger Games but never have I been inside one before. Most of the trees are unfamiliar with smooth trunks and few branches. The earth is very black and spongy underfoot, often obscured by tangles of vines with colourful blossoms. While the sun's hot and bright, the air's warm and heavy with moisture, and I get the feeling I will never really be dry here. The thin blue fabric of my jumpsuit lets the seawater evaporate easily, but it's already begun to cling to me with sweat.

We jog for a good fifteen minutes. Peeta has been placed in front because only the medium sword was able to cut through the patches of dense vegetation, followed by myself throwing knives at the ready and then Willow with her bow armed ready with an arrow. And Finnick going last, that was because he is the most powerful of the pack and I felt almost a thousand percent more comfortable with Finnick watching my back.

"Okay, hold up." Peeta says, we all stop, the sound of our panting breaths doesn't overcome the noise of insects buzzing. The wet from the water has evaporated however it's become sweat that makes our clothing cling to our bodies like second skins making me extremely conscious. The foliage has hidden the Cornucopia and all the water and spokes from sight. I watch Willow throw off her weapons and scale a tree with rubbery limbs and disappear into the treetops.

I can only imagine the image that greets her remembering back to my first games, the ground appearing as if it bleeds itself with bodies of white and open-eyed children. Weapons treated as if miracle items whilst other things such as survival packs and plastic sheets are deemed worthless. I'm not sure what she expected the games to be like. That the victor's chain of locked hands last night would result in some sort of universal truce in the arena? No, not even I believed that however I guess I had hoped people might show more... restraint? Reluctance, at least. _And you all knew each other, _I think. _You acted like friends. _I have only one real friend in here. And they aren't from District 12.

Willow doesn't trust me. She has made that obvious and despite her shyness in the training days, I cannot see any reason I should trust her either. Maybe I should just get it over with and kill her? Throw a knife aiming for the heart, it would be over in seconds. Or maybe whilst she sleeps making it relatively painless. Willow isn't stupid, she knows that both Finnick and I are too dangerous to let go but she also has a degree of deadliness to her, maybe tentative trust is my only chance to kill her. I could easily stab her in the back or slit her throat as we walk. It's despicable, of course, but will it be any more despicable if I wait? Know her better? Owe her? Or wait until she kills me. No, not this time, I refuse to put myself in a position where I am led on to trust someone who will only try and kill me when the going gets tough. I will not be allies with another Cassandra Potter.

"God, it's hot." Peeta comments as Willow makes her way down from the tree. "We need to find fresh water."

There's no sign of a freshwater stream or pond, and the salt water's undrinkable. Each member of the circle had experienced mild, if not sever forms of dehydration. I run my hand down the length of my face collecting the sweat in my fingers before pushing my hair that sticks to my face away. This arena is completely the opposite from last years where I spent the days cold and the nights wondering if I was going to keep my toes or fingertips, to this where I could do literally anything to shutter with the icy wind of winter.

No one speaks as we adventure a little further into the jungle in search of water. I keep a sharp eye pit as we continue our trek upwards, the sound of the cannon brings me to a halt. The initial bloodbath at the Cornucopia must be over. The death roll of the tributes is now available. I count the shots on my hands, each representing one dead victor. Eight. Certainly not as many as last year but it seems like more since I know most of their names. Willow looks weak and leans against a tree to rest and I cannot say I don't feel the heat draw in the moisture from my body like a sponge.

"Well, I guess we're not holding hands anymore." I say with amusement that sounds real but doesn't feel real. I am not really surprised when Finnick joins in with the amusement and chuckles leaving the District 12 pair out.

Willow's eyes narrow on me, her loathing look escalates, "You think that's funny?" she almost spits in disgust. Peeta's face doesn't portray any emotion really, he isn't shocked nor annoyed with my remark however he doesn't join in or look even remotely entertained.

"Every time that cannon goes off, it's music to my ears." Finnick replies gesturing to the sky. "I don't care about any of them."

_And that includes you. _I add silently.

Willow removes herself from behind leant back against the tree, "Good to hear." she says removing a beautiful long bladed knife almost like she challenging Finnick which makes me chuckle shallowly.

"You want to face the Career pack alone, be my guest." I tell her, "But honestly what did you really expect? That because we all held hands we have taken a vow of non-violent and will toss our weapons into the sea in a defiance against the Capitol?" I ask with the best ability to use a tone that will make her feel incredibly stupid.

Willow's nose crinkles, "No."

"No," I reply, "Because whatever happened in the past is in the past. And no one in this arena was a victor by chance."

Finnick scoffs, and then eyes Peeta for a moment. "Expect Peeta, maybe."

Peeta Mellark's body becomes stiff and Willow looks at her angriest, like she is ready to throw herself forwards with the blade of her knife paused and ready to kill my district partner. My hand automatically grips around the handle of one of my throwing knives ready to counter-move Willow's attack. The pair holds their gaze, weighing his speed against her own. The time it would take to send an arrow through his body versus the time Finnick's trident will reach her body. It oozes from Finnick's body as he waits for her to make the first move. Calculating if he should block first or attack directly. I can feel they've both worked it out when Peeta steps deliberately between his district partner, Willow and my own district partner, Finnick.

_Move, you idiot,_ I think but Peeta remains planted firmly between them. "Let's keep moving. We'll need water if we want to survive longer than a couple of days, plus we need to be undercover when the others come hunting us tonight." he says confidently not allowing Finnick's previous comment to show wounds on the surface. I'm incredibly shocked that Finnick took a shot at Peeta after the young male had shown no threat but he appears to have let it slide.

We? Us? Hunting? All right, maybe killing Willow would be a little premature, after all hunting is her speciality. I have Haymitch's approval stamp and who knows what the night will hold? Between Willow and Finnick the two have let the moment pass. Ahead I can see a thick clump of vines and with the others watching their step over the tangled ground, I remove my axe and begin cutting away at the vegetation, once through the main bulk of the vines, I think we've reached the crest of the hill, my eyes catch on a funny, rippling square in front of me hanging like a warped pane of glass in the air. At first I think it's the glare from the sun or the heat shimmering up off the ground. But it's fixed in space, not shifting when I move, and that's when I connect the square with Wiress and Beetee in the Training Centre and realise what lies before me however I realise too late and the tip of my axe slashes away from vines. There is a moment of excruciating pain that paralysis me completely as it throws me backwards... and then, blackness.

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><p><strong>AN: **_I'm back, what do you guys think about this chapter? The relationship between Anastasia and Willow is certainly rocky but do you think that will get worse or better as the Games go on? Has Anastasia's view on the Games changed? Anastasia hit the forcefield but does she pull through? Make sure you guys review and tell me what you think._


	36. Chapter 36: Hitting The Forcefield

Chapter Thirty-Six.

**Hitting The Forcefield.**

_*Finnick's POV*_

There's a sharp zapping sound followed by bright yellow sparks that engulf Anastasia's body which is flung backwards from the forcefield which sends the rest of us flying backwards to the ground as well. Once I had managed to gather myself off the ground, I rush over to where Anastasia's body lies motionless in a web of thin vines. "Anastasia?" There's a faint smell of singed hair, I call her name again with a little shake but she's unresponsive. My fingers fumble across his lips where there's no warm breath despite moment ago she was panting. I press my ears against her chest, to the same spot where she always rested her head on my chest when I cuddled her from a nightmare, promising to protect her. The exact point I know I will hear the strong and stead beat of her heart. Instead, I find silence.

"Anastasia!" the scream for my district partner is ripped from my lungs before I can stop it as my hands shake her shoulders harder, I even resort to slapping her face in desperation for her to wake up but it's no use. Her heart has failed and I'm slapping and shaking emptiness. To ensure my suspicions are correct, I place my first and second finger on a certain flesh point of her neck where the pulse normally thrives. It isn't, there's nothing.

Ignoring Peeta's questions about Anastasia's state, I pinch her nose close and tilt her mouth open so I can blow air down her throat into her lungs. Willow doesn't attempt to interject because she knows I will react harshly to anyone who attempts to stop me saving her life plus I know she would enjoy seeing Anastasia die. I am forced to pump down on the section over her heart with the heels of my hands over the top surface of her jumpsuit because the zip is down the back and moving her would waste precious time – plus there's a good chance her brother and son could be watching, exposing her naked chest is disrespectful – there's a very set rhythm and method to what I'm attempting to do, but I will save her.

It surprises me when my own heart picks up speed and begins to palpitate incredibly quickly as I continue to pump her chest and breath down her throat. The sight of Anastasia completely lifeless makes me panic beyond belief, I cannot let her die, she's too important. I've known her a small portion of her life and yet I have better relationship with her than Anastasia's own mother. Flickers of emotions that I haven't felt for years begin to rise up in my chest as agonising minutes drag past as my hopes diminish, that's around the time that I'm almost deciding that it's too late, that Anastasia's dead but I cannot think about that, I can feel her in my head and chest, that light she seems to protect when she smiles or looks at you a certain way. She has no idea the effect she can have. The feel of her in my arms whilst I cuddle her during the night as I try to convince her she's safe and everything will be okay. And that final moment we had together in the living quarters replays in my head as I blow into her mouth, the kiss was a spur of the moment and I wasn't sure how it was suppose to go however I kind of expected her to kiss me back but she didn't. Anastasia was the first human being to refuse me, I keep trying to make up excuses for the action, I've put it down to the overprotective side of me wanting to do any and everything to keep Anastasia alive and feeling like she is needed because she is. I need her, Michael needs her and her son needs her.

Unexpectedly, Anastasia gives a small cough, and move backwards giving her some space as I wipe away strands of her damp, brown hair from her forehead before finding the pulse drumming against my fingers at her neck. Her thick black lashes flutter open revealing dilated pupils, thin coloured iris' and bloodshot eye whites, as Anastasia's eyes readjust to the surrounds, they flicker to meet mine.

"Be careful," she says weakly, "There's a forcefield up ahead."

Myself and Peeta laughs good heartedly but you can sense disappointment rolling off Willow that Anastasia did not die today. The brought back from the dead teenager sits up without much problem and readjust the weapons on her back the knives in her holsters.

"It's similar to the forcefield that prevents jumpers on the roof of the Training Centre." Anastasia's voice is croaky but she appears to be fine which is confusing considering the huge electric shock she received. "I'm okay, just a little shaken that's all." she tells us batting away my hands and regaining herself to her feet to pick up a group of three throwing knives that had fallen free from her holster.

"You were dead! Your heart stopped!" Willow bursts out at Anastasia who looks a little taken back by her ally.

Anastasia raises her eyebrows and replies snidely, Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you."

Willow huffs angrily but Peeta brushes her aside, "How are you?" he asks her, "Do you think you can move on?"

I feel irritate and annoyed at my allies tone towards Anastasia, she isn't a child so I'm not sure why he insists on speaking to her like she's five however I re-frame from snapping at him, I would prefer Anastasia to rest so I simply speak before she has the chance, "No, she really should rest." I urge, "We don't know the effects the shocks might have."

"So, you want to set up camp here then?" Peeta asks.

Anastasia's eyes flicker between myself and Peeta like she is trying to figure something out but couldn't figure out what, so instead she just shakes her head. "I don't think that's a good idea," she answers, "Staying here, with no water, no protection. I feel all right, really. If we could just go slow."

"Slowly would be better than not at all." Willow replies.

Before we head off, we all do a quick scan of the arena for a missing throwing knife however Anastasia then remembers that she lost it when she missed her target – Enobaria – at the Cornucopia during the bloodbath. Apart from that, Ana still has a gold axe and a bow and arrow collection still in perfect condition.

"Should I take the lead?" Anastasia asks which earns her an echoing scoff around the entire group which makes her eyebrows sky-rocket into her hairline.

"You're mad." Willow mutters under her breath.

"No, let her," I say because I remember that just at the last second, Anastasia gasping like she had figured something out but her axe was already airborne with no enough space between her and the forcefield to divert the hit. "You knew it was there, but only realised at the last second." she nods. "But how did you know?"

Anastasia nibbles at her bottom lip, knowing that giving up her secret of recognising a forcefield could be dangerous. I'm not sure if the Gamemakers where aware of her ability to locate them but it was a very valuable piece of information. She doesn't know if the Gamemakers will alternate something about the forcefield so she cannot be able to locate it.

"I don't know. It's almost as if I can hear it. Listen." she says, we all become silent but the only sounds we can hear are buzzing of insects, flapping of birds and whispers of breeze in the foliage. "Do you hear it? It sounds like the fence surrounding home." she says, I never thought she would lie to me however it seems that I'm the only one that has picked up on Anastasia's lies.

"I don't hear anything." Willow groans.

Suppressing a grin, Anastasia shrugs, "That's weird." She then walks on along the ridge before the forcefield to her left. I keep close but not too close to draw in wanted attention therefore Peeta goes in front of me. Willow sticks to my side which I prefer because I don't trust her behind me. Anastasia snatches a branch decorated with nuts and throws them at the forcefield ahead of her as we go. It's good she does as well because I have a feeling she's missing patches that indicates the forcefield more often than she's spotting it. Whenever a nut hits the electromagnetic forcefield, there's a puff of smoke before the nut lands, blackened and with a cracked shell, on the ground at her feet.

Watching Anastasia is my main priority, she won't survive another electric shock and with her wandering so close to the forcefield, all she needs to do is loose her footing and it's game over. She keeps walking, tossing her nuts and something catching a glimpse of the forcefield, she tries to press to the left and find a spot where we can break through, get away from the Cornucopia and hopefully find water. But after an hour or so I can tell it's futile and we're not making any progress. I jog forwards slightly passed Peeta to see Anastasia whose face is wet with sweat and she looks exhausted.

"Let's take a break." I suggest.

Willow nods, "I can take another look from above if you want?"

"Good idea." says Peeta before sitting down. Anastasia takes a seat beside him and I sit opposite whilst Willow chooses a tree just a bit higher into the air than the others. We really need to find water soon because if we leave it much longer, dehydration will kick in. Plutarch Heavensbee has certainly shown his level of creativeness with this arena, the middle section made of water but non of it drinkable. The temperature remains a humid degree where it's far too warm to be dry meaning we are constantly living in our own sweat, meaning that rotting would set in through continuous dampness.

Willow returns to the ground looking more disappointed than when she went up. Can't say I blame her, from where we stood on the pedestals, the area looked pretty much identical the entire way across the arena, however I couldn't be certain due to the level we are set at.

"The forcefield has us trapped in a circle. A dome, actually. I don't know how high it goes. There's the Cornucopia, the sea, and then the jungle all around. Very exact. Very symmetrical. But it's not very large." she said.

"Did you see any water?" asks Anastasia.

Willow shook her head, "Only the salt water where we started the Games."

"There must be some other source," says Peeta, frowning, "Or we'll all be dead in a matter of days."

"Well, the foliage is thick. Maybe there are ponds or springs somewhere." Anastasia says doubtfully.

I instinctively feel the Capitol might want these unpopular Games over as soon as possible. I knew for a fact from several of my... clients, that the people of the Capitol where just as pissed off about the announcement of these Games, all of them we worried about the victors returning to the arena especially worried about Peeta Mellark, the idea of him returning to the arena without his one true love Katniss Everdeen was too heart beating for the softies of the Capitol and about Anastasia, I hear about the anger many felt towards her after she volunteered for Annie, others rewarded her for being brave however they all focused on the horrid point she may never see Lucas again.

"There must be drinkable water between the forcefield and the wheel." Peeta insists. We all know what this means. Heading back down. Heading back to the Careers and the bloodshed. All with Anastasia in a less than fighting ability, what if trouble was to accrue? Protecting her and myself wouldn't be an option, Peeta couldn't even protect himself in a fight let alone protect another and Willow, she wouldn't risk the life of another's over hers. Even though she knows the value of Anastasia's life.

We decide to move down the slope a few hundred meters, Peeta sticks to Anastasia's side however he remains a little way behind her to avoid suspicion. Anastasia stays in the lead, occasionally chucking a nut or berry to her left but we're well out of range of the forcefield now. The sun beats down on us, turning the air into steam, playing tricks on our eyes however by mid-afternoon, it's clear Anastasia can't go on but she refuses to speak up. I choose a camp-site about ten meters below the forcefield because we can use it as a weapon by deflecting our enemies into it if attacked during the night – that's if we don't forget where it is by that point – with the help of Peeta, who pulls blades off the sharp grass that grows in two-meters-high tufts. He gives the blades to Anastasia who weaves them together into mats. Willow goes hunting but promises to not to wonder too far, personally, I'm not bothered if she returns or not.

Then, completely out of the blue, Anastasia throws one of the nuts far enough to hit the forcefield and then goes to collect the nut, peals off the blackened shell and pops it into her mouth.

"Spit that out!" I hiss angrily, "That could be poisonous!"

Suddenly, Anastasia entire upper body keels over as she gasps and claws at her throat. I rush over to help but as soon as I press my hand onto her back. The young girl stands bolt upright and quivers with laughter which soon Peeta joins in with. "Got you." she manages to say through her hysteric laughs.

"You bitch." I mumble with annoyance that tints playfulness.

Considering Anastasia had no reaction to the nuts,Peeta suggests harvesting them and goes off to fry as many as he can because we aren't sure if Willow will catch anything out here so this might be the only form of a meal we get today. The weaving of the mats takes as long as it does for Willow to return and despite my negative thoughts, she carries a rather hideous beast in her right hand. It's incredibly ugly with a fuzz of mottled grey fur and two wicked-looking gnawing teeth protruding over it's lower lip. As Willow is gutting and skinning the creature, I am so entranced by the strangeness of this creature, I leave Anastasia in charge of weaving mats and move to watch.

"It's muzzle is wet." I comment looking in closely at the glistening on the creature. Willow traces her long fingers over the creatures mouth and nose before darting off excitedly back to the home tree because like any animal, it's been drinking from a stream meaning there's one close nearby. She is gone for several minutes, however she returns to camp hotter and more frustrated than ever with a grim look on her face that almost fills Anastasia with happiness.

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Not even so much as a dewdrop." she grumbles.

Her face turns oddly surprised when she looks at the new state of the camp-site, Peeta and I have managed to create a hut of sorts out of the grass mats, open on one side but with three walls, a floor and a roof. Anastasia has also plaited several bowls that Peeta has filled with roasted nuts.

"It's got to be out there though. He knew where it was." I say, "He must have been drinking recently before you shot him down."

Willow stiffens, "I swear, I covered every centimetre of ground in a thirty-meter radius."

"Can we eat him?" Peeta asks. "From what I've seen, his meat doesn't look that different from a squirrel's. He should be cooked..." he hesitates, starting a fire out here from nothing would be a huge achievement but then there's the smoke to think about. If what Willow said about the arena not being very big, all the victors are close in the arena, there's no chance of hiding it.

Anastasia has another idea. She takes a cube of rodent meat, skewers it on the tip of a pointed stick and lets it fall into the forcefield. There's a sharp sizzle and the stick flies backwards. The chunk of meat is blackened on the outside but well cooked inside. Peeta slaps her on the back and I bring her in for a one armed hug, Willow lets a small smile form onto her lips.

The white sun sinks in the rosy sky as we gather in the hut. I'm still leery about the nuts however Anastasia seems fine, well, aside from the major electric shock. During my time at my first Hunger Games, I didn't spend any time at the edible-plants station because I was part of the Career Pack, feared by most we knew a lot of the items left at the Cornucopia would be ours, therefore we didn't bother. Now I wish I had because surely there would have been something of the unfamiliar plants surrounding me, and then I might have been able to guess a bit more about where we were heading. Anastasia has been eating the nuts for hours, so I pick one up and take a small bite, it has a mild, slightly sweet flavour that reminds me of a chestnut. I decide it's all right. The rodent's strong and gamey but surprisingly juicy. Honestly, it's not a bad meal for our first meal in the arena. If only we have something to wash it down with.

Peeta asks a lot of questions about the rodent, which we all decide to call a tree rat. How high it was, how long did Willow watch it before she shot, and what was it doing? Willow says she doesn't remember it doing much of anything. Snuffling around for insects or something.

Anastasia's dreading the night, it's almost like she can smell trouble. At least the tightly woven grass offers some protection from whatever slinks across the jungle floor at night. But a short time before the sun slips below the horizon, a pale white moon rises making things just visible enough. Our conversation of who is going to take the first watch trails off because we know what's coming. We position ourselves in a line at the mouth of the hut and Anastasia slips her hand into mine.

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><p><strong>AN:** _How did you like Finnick's point of view and would you like to read more from his view? I hope this has started to develop curiosity for you - the readers - because as Anastasia lies dead, Finnick lets slip his opinions, thoughts and feels about his district partner. Please review!_


	37. Chapter 37: The Anthem

Chapter Thirty-Seven.

**The Anthem.**

The Panem anthem plays in the eerie atmosphere for a minute whilst the seal of the Capitol lights up the sky as if floating in space. As I listen to the strain of the anthem, I cannot help but think, _it will be harder for Finnick and Peeta. _Eight of the twenty-four victors are dead, no doubt at least one of these people where friends with them. The seal of Capitol disappears and the usual darkness of the sky returns before the head shots of the fallen tributes with the musical anthem playing in the background.

However, it turns out to be plenty hard for me as well because the first face to appear in the sky was the man from District 5, the one I took out with my throwing knife at the Cornucopia during the bloodbath. That means that all the tributes in 1 thought 4 are alive – the four Careers, Beetee and Wiress, and, of course, myself and Finnick – The man from District 5 is followed by the female morphling from District 6, Cecelia and Woof from District 8, both members from 9, the woman from 10, and then finally, Seeder from District 11. The Capitol seal is back with a final bit of music and then the sky goes dark except for the moon.

No one speaks, I can't pretend that I knew any of them well but I'm thinking of those three children hanging on to Cecelia when they took her away. Seeder's kindness at me at our first meeting. Even the thought of the glaze-eyed female morphling painting my arms and face with yellow flowers gives me a pang. All dead. Gone.

I don't know how long we might have sat here if it wasn't for the arrival of the silver parachute, which glides down through the foliage to land before us. No one reaches for it.

"Whose is it, do you think?" Willow asks firmly.

"No telling," says Finnick, "Why don't we let Anastasia claim it, since she died today?"

Rolling my eyes, I untie the cord and flattens out the circle of silk. On the parachute sits a small metal object that I can't place. "What is it?" Willow asks. No one knows. We pass it from hand to hand, taking turns examining it. It's a hollow metal tube, tapered slightly at one end. On the other end a small lip curves downward. It's vaguely familiar, a part that could have fallen off a bicycle, a curtain rod or anything, really. Peeta blows on one end to see if it makes a sound, it doesn't. Finnick slid his pinkie into it, testing it out as a weapon, it's useless.

"Can you fish with it?" Willow asks me.

I examine it again but it pains me to shake my head with a grunt, admitting that I'm useless in this situation. I take it and roll it back and forth on my palm. Since we're allies, Haymitch and Mags will be working together. They must have worked together to choose this gift which means its incredibly valuable, life-saving, even. I think back to last year, when I needed water so badly but Michael nor Finnick sent non. Eleven years ago in the 74th Hunger Games, Katniss Everdeen experienced a similar situation however like my mentors, Haymitch didn't send any because he knew she could find it if she really wanted. However, as I hold the gift in my hand, I can almost hear Haymitch's growling voice inside all of ours minds, _use your brains, if any of you have one._

I wipe the sweat from my eyes and hold the gift out in the moonlight. I move it this way and that, viewing it from every angle possible, covering portions and then revealing them. Trying to make it divulge it's purpose to me. Finally, in frustration, I jam one end into the first, "I give up. Maybe if we hook up with Beetee or Wiress they can figure it out." I growl, stretching out, laying on my front and pressing my hot cheek onto the grass mat, staring at the thing in aggravation. Peeta rubs my shoulders to try and relax me but the feeling of Finnick's hot stares, Peeta retracts. I wonder why this place hasn't cooled off at all now that the sun's gone down. I'm thankful that heat is a factor I have lived with all my life back in District 4 however the heat has never been this intense. I wonder what's going on back home.

Lucas. Michael and Annie. Embry. I think about them watching me from home. I begin to ache for them, for my district, for my water, not the arena's water. Rushing steams and cool breezes that help us to deal with the searing heat in summer. I conjure up such a wind in my mind, letting it freeze my cheeks and numb my fingers.

"A spile!" Willow exclaims, sitting bolt upright.

I pushed myself over to I lay on my back. "A what?" I mumble loosing all memory of the cool breeze washing over my body. Willow removes the thing from the ground and brushes if clean. Cup her hands around the tapered end, concealing it and looked at the lip.

"It's a spile. Sort of like a tap. You put it in a tree and sap comes out," she explains bluntly looking at the sinewy green trunks around her. "Well, from the right sort of tree. Theses aren't sap trees."

"Sap?" Finnick asks, we don't have the right sort of threes by the sea for that.

"To make syrup," says Peeta, "But there must be something else inside the trees."

We're all on our feet at once. Our thirst, the lack of springs, the tree rat's sharp front teeth and wet muzzle. There can only be one thing worth having inside these trees. Finnick goes to hammer the spile into the green bark of a massive tree with a rock but I stop him. "Wait, you might damage it. We need to make a hole first." I say picking out the awl from Willow's belt and burring the spike five centimetres into the tree. As soon as I remove the spile, Willow wedges the tip of the spile into the hole and we all stand back in anticipation. At first nothing happens. Then, a drop of water rolls down the lip and lands in Peeta's palm, he licks if off and holds out his hand for more.

By wiggling and adjusting the spile, we get a thin stream running out. We take hungry turns holding out mouths under the tap, wetting our parched tongues. Finnick empties the tightly woven bowl and holds it beneath the water. We fill the bowl and pass it around, taking deep gulps and, later, luxuriously splashing our faces clean. Like everything here, the water's on the warm side but this is no time to be picky. Nevertheless, this gives me the opportunity to blindly examine the cut in my hairline, it doesn't feel deep enough to panic and it's not particularly long, an inch or so crusted with dry blood. I don't speak out because I know the entire nation is watching and without our thirst to distract us, we're all aware of how exhausted we re and make preparations for the night. Last year, I always tried to have my gear ready in case I had to make a speedy retreat in the night. This year, there is no backpack to prepare, just my weapons which won't be leaving my grasp, anyway. Then I think of the spile and wrestle it from the tree trunk and slip it securely into the vacant pocket left by my missing throwing knife. It's safe.

Finnick offers to take the first watch but Peeta insist he does however when I attempt to cut in and take first watch, they both refuse sharply saying that until I am rested, Peeta and Finnick will be taking watches. I growl with anger but see no reason to fight about it because I feel protected with them. I lie down beside Finnick who lays next to Willow separating us, before he sleeps he makes sure to tell Peeta to wake him the instant he beings to feel tired. The other two find themselves sleeping with ease, however I find myself jarred from sleep a few hours later by what seems to be the rolling of a bell. _Bong! Bong! _It's not exactly like the one they ring in the Justice Building on New Year's Eve but close enough for me to recognise it. Finnick and Willow sleep through it but Peeta has the same look of attentiveness as I feel. The tolling stops and I move from the nut to sit with Peeta a meter from the hut.

"I counted Twelve." I say.

"Midnight?" Peeta suggests not at all bothered by my company.

Nibbling my lip, I rattle my brain. "Or one for every for every districts."

"Do you think they mean anything?" he asks.

Shrugging, I answer, "No idea."

We wait for further instructions, maybe a message from Claudius Templesmith. An invitation to a feast but the only think of a note appears in the distance, a dazzling bolt of electricity strikes a towering tree and then a lightning story beings. I guess it's an indication of rain, of a water source for those who don't have mentors as smart as Haymitch and Mags.

"Go to sleep, Anastasia. It's my turn to watch, anyway." Peeta says. I hesitate but no one can stay awake for ever. I settle down at the mouth of the hut, one hand firmly grasped around the handle of a knife and I drift into a restless sleep.

The sound of a cannon startles me into consciousness, another victor dead, I don't even allow myself to wonder who it is. There's no point waking a now sleeping Peeta beside me because there is no point alerting them of this. The elusive rain shuts off suddenly, moments after it stops, I see the fog sliding softly in from the direction of the recent downpour.

"It's just a reaction. Cool rain on the steaming ground." Finnick whispers to himself.

As it continues to approach at a steady pace, tendrils reach forwards and then curl like fingers, as if they are pulling the rest behind them. As I watch, I feel the airs on my neck begin to rise. Something is wrong with this fog. The progression of the front line is too uniformed to be natural. And if it's not natural... it's Gamemaker made. A sickeningly sweet odour beings to invade my nostrils whilst Finnick reaches a hand out for the fog.

"No Finnick!" I screech as he jerks backwards, I lung forwards and it takes a few seconds for him to reveal his hand to me whilst I scream for the others to wake up which is the time it takes for Finnick's hand that begins to blister.

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><p><strong>AN:** _Tra-la-la, now in the original books (and film), a person dies in the fog. Do you think someone will parish? Or will everyone make it out safe? Please review and tell me what you think of this chapter._


	38. Chapter 38: Poisonous Fog

Chapter Thirty-Eight.

**Poisonous Fog.**

Tiny, searing stabs engulf my body wherever the droplets if mists touch my skin. The others have begun to stir but have no idea what the seriousness of the situation unrolling around us. Ensuring Finnick was proportionally okay, I scream, "Run!" at the others, "The fog is poisonous." Willow snaps awake instantly and pulls Peeta who is awake but not alert along after Finnick and I who aren't waiting for them but it becomes apparent very early on into the run that the after-effects of hitting the forcefield have been significant because I feel slow and sluggish, unable to properly locate the snaking vines on the floor causing me to stumble occasionally. Despite he being injured, Finnick Odair wrapped my right arm over his shoulders, digging his shoulder into my armpit to steady me carefully, Peeta and Willow are running along slightly behind us who aren't suffering any forms of reaction from the gas. The wall of fog extended in a straight line as far as I can see in either direction. As I prove more problems than solutions, I cannot understand why Finnick wouldn't just flee, abandon me and save himself. It would be so simple to run full out. It reminds me of the way I sprinted away from the muttations in the my first Games, Garrett had just died and I didn't even to see if he was even vacantly alive instead I sprint away without a second glance. But Finnick's grip didn't loosen, I think of the eyes glued to the television in the districts, seeing if he will run as the Capitol wishes, or will he hold his ground.

He left hand locks fingers with my right that dangles over his shoulder and says, "Watch my feet. Just try to step where I step." It helps. We seem to move a little faster, but never enough to afford a rest and the mist continues to lap at our heels. Droplets spring free of the body of vapour. They burn, but not like fire. Less a sense of heat and more of intense pain as the chemicals find our flesh, cling to it and borrow down through the layers of skin. Our jumpsuits are no help at all. We may as well be dressed in tissue paper, for all the protection they give.

Willow, who has bounded off initially, stops when she realises we're having problems. But this is not a thing you can fight, only evade. She shouts encouragement, trying to move us along and the sound of her voice acts as a guide, through a little more. Finnick is completely oblivious to the clump of vines, as he sprawls forwards, he throwing me a fair distance. As I help him up, I become aware of something scarier than the blisters, more debilitating than burns. The left side of his face has sagged, as if every muscle in it has died. The lid droops, almost concealing his eye. His mouth twists in an odd angle towards the ground. "Finnick –" I begin. And that's when I feel the spasms running up my arm.

Whatever chemical laces the fog does more than burn – it targets our nerves. A whole new kind of fear shoots through me and I yank Finnick forwards, which only causes him to stumble. By the time I get him to his feet, both of my arms are twitching uncontrollably. The fog has moved in on us, the body of it's less than a meter away. Something is wrong with Finnick's legs; he trying to walk but they move in a spastic and puppet-like fashion.

I feel him lurch forwards and realise that Peeta has come back for us and is hauling Finnick along. I wedge my shoulder, which still seems under my control, under Finnick's arm in the same way he had when he attempted to keep me steady and I do my best to keep up with Peeta's rapid race. We put about ten meters between us and the fog when Peeta stops.

"It's no good. I'll have to carry him." Peeta tells me, "Willow, can you help Anastasia?"

Willow certainly doesn't look overly happy about the new arrangements but still, she nods silently and grips me in a familiar way Finnick had and she begins to guide me through the vines. Peeta shows amazing strength when I see him with Finnick slung across his back and we move forwards with Peeta trailing along behind.

The fog comes, silently and steady and flat, except for the grasping tendrils. Although my instincts is to run directly away from however Willow is moving at a diagonally down the hill. He's trying to keep a distance from the gas while steering us towards the water that surrounds the Cornucopia. _Yes, water, _I think as the acid droplets bore deeper into me. Now I'm so thankful I didn't kill Willow because if I had, Peeta wouldn't be on my side helping Finnick.

Suddenly, Peeta trips and tumbles to the ground. Willow almost tosses me aside to check on her district partner but she finds it deep within herself to bring me to the bundle of two males on the jungle floor. "Finnick?" I call out hoarsely, the fog almost snatches a hold of us angrily. Non-verbally, Willow and myself grip our district partners and then form a line, all leaning on each other.

Time and space loses all meaning as the fog seems to invade my brain, muddling my thoughts and making everything unreal. Some deep-rooted animal desire for survival keeps me stumbling with the rest of my pack, to continue moving although I'm probably dead already. Part of me are dead, or must be dying. Moonlight glinting on Finnick's bronze hair, beads of searing pain peppering me, all of a sudden, the fog almost engulfs us, if it wasn't for the hidden hill, the fog would have swallowed us whole.

Our bodies fall apart as we slam and smash against uneven ground as we tumble. Once we hit the bottom, nothing makes any sense, my vision is blurred whilst my entire body is engulfed in searing pain and hideous blisters. Finnick's body rolled further forwards then mine, he lays on his front with his arms still jerking. Peeta is laying on his back just beside Finnick's feet whilst Willow somehow managed to end up on my right side with her legs twisted oddly. I manage to turn over from my front to my back, propping myself up on my elbows to see the cloud of tinted green fog descending in on us, I try to call out but my throat is on fire. _This is where, how and where we are all going to die. _I think but from beside me, I hear Finnick groan and attempt to move across the ground however it's futile but then, at the bottom of the hill, less than two meters from my feet, I watch the fog hit something solid, not a body or a tree, something invisible like a glass window. The fog becomes thicker as it's being forced to condense. Like the other horrors I have witnessed in the arena, it must of reached the end of its territory. Either that or Plutarch Heavensbee has decided not to kill us just yet.

"It's stopped." I try to say, but only an awful croaked sound comes from my swollen mouth, "It's stopped." I say again, and this time I must be clearer because Willow and Peeta turn their heads to the fog. It begins to rise upwards now, as if being slowly vacuumed into the sky. We watch until it has all been sucked away and not the slightest wisp remains.

Turning over, the glistening beautiful of a small pond rests only meters from my grasp. If I can reach it that is. Using all the upper strength I have left in my sore and blistered body, I grapple across the jungle floor keeping a blurred eye out for bugs or snakes. My hand first sinks into the water but I jerk away as if I've touched an open flame because the blisters release searing pain through my body. _Rubbing salt into a wound, _this is the first time I truly appreciate the expression because the salt in the water makes the pain of my wounds so blinding I nearly black out but there's another sensation, of drawing out. I experiment by gingerly replacing my hand into the water, it's torturous, yes, but through the blue layer of water, I see a milky white substance leaching out of the wounds on my skin. As the whiteness diminishes, so does the pain and my hand returned to the state it was before the attack. Soft and smooth without a trace of blistering or burns.

"The water helps." I tell them glancing back to see Peeta looking confused at Willow but doesn't question it. Instead, he commando crawls through the undergrowth like I had beforehand and joins me at the waters edge. I crawl in further into the water, using my newly mended hands to rubs water across the blisters on my neck and face. I growl in anger trying to keep my agonising noises to a minimum so I don't alert the other victors. Willow copies mine and Peeta's actions with a look of discomfort but Finnick still remains laying down on the floor.

Peeta recovers enough to help me drag Finnick into the small pond, our arms linked with his we drag him into the water and hold him steady as the water works its magic on the wounds but it becomes clear quickly that leaving him to soak wasn't going to be enough to remove the amount of wounds he has. Willow needs help so I tell Peeta to go and help his district partner. With Peeta gone, I readjust my grip and the position of my body, considering the pond isn't very deep at all, I manage to kneel with Finnick's head resting against my collarbone with my right arm wrapped from behind, under his armpit with my hand grasped firmly on the top of his right shoulder, the floatation device looks undamaged by the acid fog and helps keep the rest of his body afloat just below the surface of the water. I get to work slightly unzipping Finnick's jumpsuit and rubbing the flesh clear of the wounds, the milky white discharge erupts from beneath him floating to the surface, Finnick doesn't notice, he just lies there, eyes shut giving me an occasional moan. When I am certain he is clear of blisters, I re-zip his suit up. It's dangerous to throw him in face first but with the stead hold I have on his body, I wash water over his neck and his forehead removing the pustules. Slowly, Finnick begins to revive. His face is still floppy but his eyes are open, he gathers the strength to pick up his arms from beneath the water and examine the newness of his hand, then he registers the awareness he is being helped.

"You've just got your face left, Finnick. That's the worst pair but you'll feel much better after, I promise." I tell him, "That's if you can bear it." I know the tease will egg on Finnick to prove me wrong. His right arm bends at the elbow and grips my hand that rests on his shoulder. His other hand will be the one he raises if submerged in the water too long but I'd like to think he has more trust in me than that. Finnick nods and I plunge him into the water, my hand gently brushes over the blisters washing them away and turning his face back to normal. I return him to the surface and his face slowly returns back to the normal and original looking Finnick Odair.

"Are you okay?" he asks me after regaining the ability to speak.

I raise my eyebrows at him in bewilderment, why is Finnick asking if I'm okay when he is the one whose been the worse effected by the poisonous fog. "I'm fine, are you okay though?" I ask in reply but before he replies, Peeta has adventured over to us.

"I'm going to tap a tree, can I have the spile?" he asks, I nod and remove the spile from my holster and hand it too him. I hold Finnick in the water until he has full movement of his limbs, which is when I help him out of the water. After that, we collect our weapons which are all resting at the bottom of the hill, out of the three tridents Finnick was carrying, only one remains. My golden axe glistens in the moonlight, I've lost one of my two long knifes and a handful of arrows but the bow is still in great condition. It takes several intense looks to find the throwing knives that have become loose but with Finnick's help we manage to find them all. In privacy, I double check I have my trinket from Dieter Rollo, the bracelet from Haymitch Abernathy and my mockingjay pin given to be by Peeta Mellark.

I'm so oblivious to collecting my weapons, I don't realise that Finnick is tugging on my elbow. "What?" I growl turning my attention to him but also the surrounding, perched on the branches, in the trees and the land around the pond are what look like monkeys, I have never actually seen monkeys before however I must have seen a picture or one in a previous Games because when I see the creature, the same word comes to mind. These monkeys have fuzzy fire like the tree rat but it looks tinted orange although it's hard to tell in the dim light, they are about half the size of a fully grown human.

I edge backwards into the water, repositioning the golden axe in my hand ready to use. The monkeys don't appear to be showing any sign of aggression but in my first Hunger Games I was shown that enough birds can cause serious harm. "Peeta? Come away from the tree, slowly." I tell him. A monkey suddenly switches attitude from calm to snarling, the creature snaps at Peeta making him dart backwards down the slope leaving the spile in the tree. Willow is armed with a arrow already loaded into her bow, Finnick has his trident poised ready to strike and I have my axe. As Peeta edges his way back to the pond to retrieve his sword from me, his eyes only dart up for a second but it's as if he triggered a bomb. The monkeys explode into a shrieking mass of orange fur and converge on him dangerously.

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><p><strong>AN:** _What did you guys think of this chapter? So, no-one died in this chapter but what about next? The monkey muttations are next up to try and kill the four victors, make sure you read that but follow and/or favourite, if you're enjoying this and review telling me what you think :)_


	39. Chapter 39: Monkey Muttations

Chapter Thirty-Nine.

**Monkey Muttations.**

"Get to the beach." I tell them as a gleaming clear pathway through the greenery calls my name leading straight to the golden sand of the beach surrounding the water where the Cornucopia sits central to this arena. I can see it glistening in the moonlight, call our names to safety.

I've never seen any animal move so fast, they slide down the vines and across tree branches as if the things were greased. Leaping impossible distances from tree to tree. Fangs bared, hackles raised, claws shooting out like switch-blades. I may be unfamiliar with monkeys but animals in nature don't act like this, not even mountain lions that live beyond the fence. "_Mutts_." I hear Willow hiss. She knows that every arrow much count, I quickly slip a handful of arrows into her quiver, she thanks me with a smile and a nod. We return to our circular position as monkeys gather on every side. Peeta is now armed with a weapon.

I turn myself to face the pathway when two snarling monkeys block my way. Two more move in beside those mutts and I feel my axe isn't the right tool for the job. Sliding it into the leather loop in the knife holster, I remove a handful of throwing knives. A growling erupts from behind me followed by the splashing off the water and I'm almost certain Peeta has been taken out behind me but it's quite the opposite, it appears by the look of Peeta that a monkey had attempted to take me from behind and Peeta saved me. I give him a thankful look before turning my attention back to the four monkeys in front of me.

Peeta, Willow, Finnick and I all position ourselves in a square, set a few meters apart with our backs to one another. Each knife isn't wasted, I target throats, eyes and heart. Each hit means death but it wouldn't be enough without Willow taking the same strategy as myself. Finnick spears the beasts like fish and flings them aside whilst Peeta slashes away with his sword. I feel claws on my legs and down my face beside someone takes out the attacker. The air grows thicker with of trampled plants, the scent of blood and the musty stink of the monkeys. The numbers of the creatures are decreasing and Willow is running low on arrows.

"Head for the beach!" Peeta orders strongly before rocketing off, slashing down any monkeys that peruse him with his sword. The rest of us don't hesitate to follow him, there isn't a lot of mutts left to take down, I have switched from knives to my axe to save on throwing knives. We stumble down a mud slope, Willow lets out a howl of pain, Finnick slashes away at monkeys that have followed from behind and Peeta is currently protecting Willow who sounds injured without ability to protect herself due to lack of ammunition.

One monkey mutt managed to pass through unnoticed and made a bee-line towards me. I scrambled away to reach my axe as it snarls and leaps. My hand snatches my weapon but it's too late, or so I think until a high-pitched screech echoes from behind me, suddenly as if out of nowhere, a body lunges itself forward from the mud wall hidden by stick like brown vines dangling behind me. The person throws its up its skeletal arms as if to embrace the monkey, and the person falls beneath the creature and it sinks it's fangs into the flesh at the chest.

Growling with anger, I stab the monkey, over and over again in the back until it releases its jaws. Then I kick the mutt away firmly to examine the person responsible for saving my life, one glance is all it takes for me to identity the victor as the male morphling from District 6 who painted me in pretty flowers.

"Who is that?" Peeta asks.

"The male morphling." I inform him slipping my axe into my belt and grabbing the morphling in the most effective way, "Grab Willow. Finnick! Lets go!" I scream at them before dragging the male morphling from the ground, through the undergrowth and out onto the sand. Peeta and Willow aren't far behind me but when Finnick doesn't emerge right away I begin to panic but I can't leave the male morphling to bleed out on the sand alone. My district partner suddenly emerges from the jungle but it looks more like he's been thrown, the monkeys form a thin line out of the tree line but don't adventure any further as Finnick continue to threaten them with his trident.

I cut away the material over the chest of the male morphling to reveal four deep puncture wounds. Blood slowly trickling from them, making them look far less deadly than they are. The real damage is inside. By the position of the openings, I feel certain the beast ruptured something vital, a lung or possibly even the heart. He lies on the sand, gasping like a fish out of water. Sagging skin, sickly green, his ribs are prominent as a child's dead of starvation. Surely he can afford food but turned to the morphling just as Haymitch turned to drink, I guess. I drag him off into the shallow section of the warm water hoping the dying male will find some comfort in the warmth, he grapples onto me thinking I am going to leave him to drown.

"It's okay," I whisper to him as I sit down to join him in the water, my right arm rests beneath his neck keeping him afloat, his left hand holds my right hand whilst my left hand gently washes away the mud that seeps into his pours. "At home when my brother became a victor, he just to enjoy adventuring off to the outstretches of District 4 because Michael said he could smell the wildlife." I say calmly, the morphling stares into my eyes, almost hanging onto my words. Washing away the mud it reveals him to be younger than I originally expected, a couple years younger than Finnick but a few older than Peeta.

"It wasn't until I became a victor I realised what he meant, everything smelt and looked different. I suppose my son had a large play in that." I say, the morphling's breathing is slowing into shallow catch-breaths. He uses his free hand to dabble a finger in the blood at her chest, making the tiny swirling motions, he loved to paint with.

Then I notice it's sunrise and the sky is decorated with the most beautiful oranges I've ever seen, "You want to see something beautiful, look up." he does, "Isn't that beautiful, don't think about anything else, just look." I watch the morphling glance up at the sky but then returned his eyes to me before lifting a trembling hand to paint what feels like a flower on my right cheek.

"It's beautiful. Thank you." I whisper, for a moment, the morphing's face lights up in a grin and he makes a small squeaking sound. Then her blood-dappled hand falls back on to his chest, he gives one last huff of air, and the cannon fires. I carry him further into the water before letting him go. I take a seat at the waters edge by myself as I watch the morphling float out towards the Cornucopia for a while, then the hovercraft appears and a four-pronged claw joined with metal bars drops, encases her. Carries her into the sun rising sky, and he's gone.

Finnick rejoins us, his first full of Willow's arrows still wet with monkey blood. "Thought you might want these." he says to Willow, holding them out to her but her face resembles pain so I offer to wash them free of blood. Finnick hands them to me but doesn't leave me alone, instead he sits down beside me, watching as I wash off the gore, blood and occasional pieces of fur form Willows ammunition. I'm filled with guilt at the thought he died for me, he did. I am so caught up in my thoughts that I'm not paying attention to the sharp arrow head and my finger slices across the steel tip cutting it open.

"You okay?" Finnick asks instantly after I remove my finger from the water to see my finger gushing a crimson river. He hisses on my behalf before gently wrapping his lips around the side of my cut and sucks the blood. When he releases the upper section of my finger from his mouth, it's clean but it's also stopped bleeding. He let my hand go all together whilst discreetly licking the rest of my blood off his lip with his tongue.

"His name was Aspen Easton," I say to myself, "And he sacrificed himself for me."

Finnick only stares at me, wondering how I ever remembered his name and how I know he sacrificed himself for me however I don't develop on what I've said, to be far I'm not even sure why I have said it, maybe to show to his family back in District 6 – if he had one – that I really do appreciate what he did for me. That I won't forget him because you never forget the face of someone who was your savour.

"Do you think it's safe to try for the water again?" Finnick asks.

We make our way back to the trees that Peeta was tapping, the monkey bodies have been harvested and no longer lay dead, despite that, both Finnick has his weapon poised whilst I tap the tree, soon a thin steam of water spilled from the spile and no threat appears. Finnick and I take turns to wash away our thirst, then I find a broken coconut shell and fill it with water to bring back to the beach for Peeta and Willow.

"We have a problem." Peeta announces once we break through the tree line.

A weight presses down on me, "Another one?" I ask.

"Willow might have a broken ankle." he then says as if to knock my sarcastic comment into a bitchy phrase. A look of embarrassment glistens across Willow's face as we all turned our attention to her, when Peeta pulls up the left trouser leg of her jumpsuit it's obvious that's the broken ankle due to the horrendous bruising. The break remains concealed inside the skin thankfully setting aside the risk of infection but that doesn't push away the fact this will both slow us down and put us at risk a lot more because no doubt Peeta will be wanting to protect her and that will set all us of at a higher risk.

"Well, shit." I mumble to myself rubbing my lips awkwardly not being able to bring to words what I really want to say. We could try and bind the break together with vines hoping it will be useful but a break is a break and will take months to heal, we aren't going to be in this arena for months. Killing her is the obvious explanation that would avoid any of us being at risk but I really cannot say that, especially not in front of Willow. I hand Willow her arrows, she thanks me but I don't reply. She's dead weight now. "Why don't you three try and get some sleep," I suggest.

"No, Anastasia, I'd rather." says Finnick, I look in his eyes and at his face but I can't figure out what emotion they are portraying but I refuse to let him stay up again to guard us whilst the others sleep.

I shake my head firmly, "No Finnick. You've already done too much for me."

"You've died. I think that gives you a pass to rest a little more than me." he replies firmly.

"But you brought me back. Honestly, you should sleep." I insist.

Peeta is suddenly stood behind us, "Both of you get some sleep. I'll take watch." he orders.

Raising my eyebrows at Finnick causes him to chuckle lightly at Peeta's attempt to be the alpha of the pack however if he wishes to drain his battery's to solve mine and Finnick quarrel. He is welcome too. Finnick and I take the beach beside Willow who is already sleeping with a bow loaded with an arrow held firmly in her hands. Finnick takes the spot beside Willow and I lay on the end of the row and I'm comfortable for about fifteen minutes but the uneven sand makes me irritable.

"Finnick?" I whisper shallowly enough for only him to heard me.

He rolls over to face me, his eyes half shut but he is still awake. "Yes, Anastasia?" he asks in a shallower whisper than I used to first get his attention.

"Can I lean on you?" I ask shyly, as soon as the question leaves my mouth I feel completely embarrassed and consider turning over so he doesn't have to look to me and maybe he'll forget. However, he manages to snake a arm around me and pulls me into his side to I can rest my head in the open crease of his armpit. He gently kisses the top of my head, avoiding the cut. I look at the stars for a moment, the way they shine and has collected themselves reminds me of the second time Cato and I met on the roof and watched the shooting stars. Peeta has his blade buried in the sand with his eyes gently skimming over the arena, I feel safe with him and Finnick grip around me. I fall asleep without a problem.

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><p><strong>AN:**_ All right, sorry to disappoint you but no one died - aside from the male morphling - but Willow's ankle could be badly broken meaning she is almost useless. What do you think about the relationship between the male morphling and Anastasia in his last moments also what do you think about the relationship between Finnick and Anastasia so far? Review!_


	40. Chapter 40: Victors Reunion

Chapter Forty.

**Reunion. **

It's mid-morning when I open my eyes, Finnick isn't laying beside me, Peeta is. Above us, a mat of grass is suspended on branches shielding our face from the scorching sunlight. I sit up and see that during his time awake, Finnick's hands haven't been idle. Two woven bowls are filled with fresh water and a third holds a mess of shellfish which I recognised from years of eating them back at home. My stomach begins to growl simply at the sight of food which helps to pull me form my sleep state to shuffle through the dry sand forwards over to the bowl and taking one. I pull out a knife from my holster; slip it flatly between the lips of the shell and turn it upwards causing the shell to crack open revealing the yellow tinted mussel in the centre, using my knife has a fork, I pierce it through the middle of the fleshy item and pop it into my mouth.

Peeta begins to stir from his deep sleep and he moves away from Willow without waking her. The District 12 male takes a seat beside me and gestures to the water bowl waiting for mine or Finnick's approval, when we nod, he takes it gratefully from the sand and takes some very generous gulps to sooth his raw throat.

"Why didn't you wake me?" I question Peeta when he passes on the water bowl to me.

He shrugs, "You were sleeping."

"So was Finnick." I reply quickly.

"But Finnick hadn't died earlier that day." Peeta snaps back.

My eyes narrow at him, "Yes but he was rendered unconscious because of poisonous gas."

"Peeta is the only real reason I made it out of there alive." Finnick interjects defending Peeta, my eyes widen in surprise at the development from Finnick accusing Peeta of being the only victor that won the Games by chance to them defending each other like friends.

"Then surly then both of you should have been resting." I growl.

Peeta laughs and says sarcastically, "So with us three sleeping, that leaves broken ankled Willow to defend us."

I'm angry. Close to furious but not quite, why do these two continue to baby me? I'm a Hunger Games victor. I'm perfectly capable to look after myself and I feel completely fine, granted we all are a little shaken by the events since the bloodbath but non are the in any better shape than the other. Well, apart from Willow whose so two left-footed that she managed to break her own ankle.

"Well, is she wasn't so stupid the breaking off her ankle wouldn't of happened!" I hiss in a low whisper.

Peeta's eyes sharpened on me, "If it wasn't for you –" he begins to hiss however Finnick's strong hand on Peeta's shoulder stops him from continuing on with his come back. I didn't care, it wasn't worth the fight really.

The blazing white sun in the pink sky hovers over us, reminding us how the districts feel beneath the watchful eye of the Capitol. From it's position in the sky, I estimate it must be going on ten o'clock. And just as I've come to this conclusion, a parachute lands before us with a loaf of bread protected by a sheet of cloth. I watch Finnick turn the bread over in his hands, examining the crust. A bit too possessively. It's not necessary. It's got that green tint from seaweed that the bread from District 4 always has however in the arena last year I got regular bread from District 12 after I helped end Waylon's suffering, Finnick Odair however had enough sponsors in his Games and received plenty of gifts including green tinted bread. Peeta and I know it's his, maybe he's just realised how precious it is, and that he may never another loaf again. Maybe some memories of District 4, of Mags – who practically raised him – and of Annie – to whom his heart belongs – are all associated within the crust. But all he says is, "This will go well with shellfish." And then rips the loaf into four and handing it to Peeta and I, leaving a piece for Willow when she eventually wakens.

We've been in this arena for about a day. Ten of us are dead. Fourteen alive. Somewhere in the jungle, ten are concealed but three or four are the Careers. Despite knowing who some of the others are, I don't feel like trying to remember because for me, the jungle has quickly evolved from a place of protection to a sinister trap. I know at some point we'll be forced to re-enter its depths, either to hunt or be hunted but for now I'm planning to stick to our beach. And I don't hear Peeta or Finnick suggest we do otherwise.

For a while, the jungle seems almost static, humming and shimmering but not flaunting any danger. Then, in the distance, comes screaming. Across from us, a wedge of the jungle begins to vibrate. An enormous wave crests high on the will, topping trees and roaring down the slope. It hits the existing seawater with such force that even through we're as far as we can get away from it, the surf bubbles up around our knees, setting our few possessions afloat. Among the four off us, no-one looses anything important. However the wave does manage to wake Willow who looks shocked by the water pooling at her face.

A cannon fires helping to shock her from her confused state. We see the hovercraft appear over the area where the wave began and pluck a body from the trees. _Eleven, _I think. The circle of water slowly calms down, having absorbed the giant wave. We rearranged our things back on the wet sand and are about to settle down when I see them. Three figures, about two spokes away, stumbling on to the beach.

"Look." Peeta says quietly nodding in the newcomers' direction. Finnick follows our gazes. As if by previous agreement, we all fade back into the shadows of the jungle. The trio's in bad shape – you can see that right off – one is being practically dragged out by a second, and a third wanders in loopy circles, as if deranged. They're a solid brick-red colour, as if they've been dipped in paint and left to dry out.

"Who is that?" asks Willow whose supporting herself on Peeta, "Or what? Muttations?"

I can see the others getting ready for an attack but all that happens is that the one who was being dragged collapses on the beach. The dragger stamps the ground in seer frustration and, in an apparent fit of temper, turns and shoving the circling, deranged one over before throwing down an axe into the sand.

Feeling my face light up almost immediately, I call out, "Johanna!" before running towards the red covered things. From the distance I can see Johanna's face match my happiness.

The messy woman turns around to catch sight of me, "Anastasia!" she calls in reply, her voice confirms her identity. I jog towards her slipping away my weapons, she leaves her axe in the sand and wraps her arms around me, engulfing me in the messiest hug ever. It's then I smell the reeking odour of blood. I back away quickly.

"Jesus Christ, what happened to you?" I question moving back a respectful foot and a half.

She chuckles, "I got Beetee and Wiress out, we were deep into the jungle where I thought it was going to be safe. That's when the rain started. I thought it was water, you know, because of the lighting but it turned out to be blood –"

"– Tick, Tock." Wiress interrupted grappling at my arms earning her a shove from Johanna.

"It was hot, thick blood." Johanna goes on, the others haven't joined us yet maybe Finnick's talking the District 12 pair into trusting Johanna because I can feel Willow will be awkward about this alliance, Peeta I don't see would have a problem, more allies equals more protection. "It was coming down and choking us. You couldn't speak without getting a mouthful. We were stumbling around, gagging on it blind." she continues, blood from her lips spits as she speaks with venom about her own experience in the arena, the rain me and Finnick had witnessed wasn't water rain but blood rain but then who hit the forcefield, who would Johanna risk having with her? It must have been her district partner.

"Blight hit the forcefield?" I ask, almost in a whisper not wanting to upset her further.

Johanna's features softened slightly. "Yeah, he wasn't much but he was from home."

I step forwards, embracing the strong smell of metallic blood and rub her arm tenderly, not bothered by the transferring of blood form her arm to my hand, all to showing her that I understand the pain of loosing someone from home. I reached Garrett too late in my last Games and Finnick watched me die hours after the Games started. Both he and I know the pain of almost and completely loosing people that remind us of home.

"Blight left me alone with these two," she gestures her head towards Beetee, who's in a mid-state of consciousness working towards the waters edge to clean the blood from his skin. "He got a knife in the back at the Cornucopia. And her –"

I look over at Wiress, who's circling around coated in dry blood, and murmuring, "Tick, Tock."

Johanna and I turn our attention away from a deranged Wiress to study the others as they reach us. Willow is still using Peeta for support but despite her injuries, she looks ready for any problems that may occur. Finnick is slightly separate from the pack and embraces Johanna like the old friend she is. Peeta just studies the pair before looking at Beetee and Wiress before raising his eyebrows in an expression that's between surprise and bewilderment.

"What happened to her?" Willow asks gesturing towards Wiress.

"Tick, tock. Tick, tock." mumbles Wiress.

Beetee removes his glasses to wash his face clean, "She's in shock. Dehydration isn't helping, do you have fresh water?"

"We can get some." Peeta replies.

Wiress then suddenly turns in my direction and snatches onto me with a death grip mumbling at "Tick, tock." at me over and over again. I tried to smile at her and attempt to calm her down but the mumbles become louder like she's trying to get me to figure something out. Wiress' nails pinch my skin making me gasp in pain, Johanna is suddenly grappling between us, harshly shoving Wiress off my body and down onto the beach. "Get off her, just stay down" Johanna growls angrily, I'm rather surprised by Johanna's actions, she even goes as far as patting me down to make sure I'm not injured.

"Lay off her!" Willow snaps.

Johanna narrows her brown eyes at Willow in hatred. "Lay off her?" she hisses, lunging forwards before Willow can even react and slaps her so hard she could probably see stars. Peeta jerks Willow backwards just as wrap my arms around Johanna's middle and toss her writhing body away from the District 12 pair.

"Calm down Johanna." I whisper soothingly as I throw her into the water, repeatedly dunking her as she spits vile and insulting things at the tribute. Eventually, Johanna does quiet down enough for me to remove my grip on her, she sits in the shallow water, panting and removing the blood from her hair and skin. Once I am certain Johanna won't attempt to kill Willow, I leave her to wash off and collect Wiress form the sand which she sits mumbling two words that have began to reply themselves in my mind.

Willow is attending to Beetee's cut, it's a eighteen centimetre gash running from his shoulder blade to below his ribs. From the glance I get just wondering passed, I don't think it's very deep however he's lost a lot of blood – you can tell by the pallor of his skin – and it's stoll oozing out of the wound.

Wiress doesn't resist me working off her clothing or scrubbing the blood from her skin. But her eyes are dilated with fear, and when I speak, she doesn't respond expect to say with ever-increasing urgency, "Tick, tock." She does seem to be trying to tell me something but with no Beetee to explain her thoughts, I'm completely lost.

"Yes, tick, tock. Tick, tock." I say, this seems to calm her down a little, I wash out her jumpsuit until there's hardly any trace of blood left, and I even help her back into it. The suit isn't damaged from the blood the same as the poisonous fog never damaged our suits. Her belt is fine, so I fasten that on, too.

Wiress eyes seems completely locked on the jungle in front of us, she suddenly shivers, "Tick, tock." she gasps. The water is warm and soothing on my aching muscles but the sun is searing hot and directly above us. _It must be noon, _I think absently because it doesn't really matter to me, we are still in this hell hole. Across the water, off to the right, I see the enormous flash as the lightning bolt hits the tree and the electrical storm begins again. Right in the same area it did last night. Someone must have moved into it's range, triggering the attack. I sit watching the lightning, aware of Wiress in my arms – who is now calm with the peacefulness of the waves lapping around us – and Johanna awake behind me. I think of last night, how the lightning began just after the bell trolled. Twelve bongs.

"Tick, tock." Wiress says, surfacing from her calmness.

Twelve bongs last night. Like it was midnight. Then lightning. The sun overhead now. Like it's noon. And lightning. Slowly, I rise up and survey the arena. The lightning there. In the next pie wedge over came the blood rain, where Johanna, Wiress and Beetee were caught. We could have been in the third section, right next to that, when the fog appeared. And as soon as it was sucked away, the monkeys began to gather in the fourth. _Tick, tock. _My head snaps to the other side. A couple of hours ago, at around ten, that wave came out of the second section to the left of where the lighting strikes now. At noon. At midnight. At noon.

As the lightning ceases and the blood rain begins just to the right of it, her words suddenly make sense. "Tick, tock." Wiress says looking up at me with a happy and knowing look.

"Oh." I gasp under my breath, "Tick, tock." My eyes sweep around the full circle of the arena and I know she's right. "It's a clock!" I exclaim, snatching Wiress' shoulder, I engulf her in a huge hug before placing my hands either side of her face, "My God, Wiress you're a genius. It's a clock!"

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><p><strong>AN:**_ I really enjoyed writing this chapter and reuniting Johanna and Anastasia because they get on incredibly well, what do you think of their relationship? Yes, the arena is a clock, just like the book and film, I'm sorry, however I hope your liking it nevertheless. Please review!_


	41. Chapter 41: It's A Clock

Chapter Forty-One.

**It's A Clock.**

A clock. I can almost see the hands ticking around the twelve-sectioned face of the arena. Each hours begins a new horror, a new Gamemaker weapon, and ends the previous. Lighting, blood rain, fog, monkeys – those are the first hours on the clock. And at ten, the wave hits. I don't know what happens in the other seven but I know Wiress is right. At present, the blood rain's falling and we're on the beach below the monkey segment, far too close to the fog for my liking. Do the various attacks stay within the confines of the jungle? The wave didn't and the fog lingered out however the monkeys did remain in the trees not adventuring onto the sand.

Dragging Wiress over carefully, I take her over to Johanna, shake Finnick awake and gesturing the District 12 pair closer. There's enough time to explain the clock theory to them. About Wiress' tick-tocking and how the movements of the invisible hands trigger a deadly force in each section. I think I've convinced everyone, well maybe aside from Willow, who's naturally opposed to liking anything I suggest. But even she agrees it's better to be safe than sorry.

While the others collect our few possessions, I let Wiress' hand go but she panics and snatch onto my hand, "Tick, tock!" she explodes.

I put my hand over hears and hush gently, "Yes, tick, tock. The arena's a clock. Wiress, you were right." I say soothingly. "You were right."

Relief floods her face – I guess because somebody has finally understood what she's known probably from the first trolling of the bells. "Midnight."

"It starts at midnight." I confirm. A memory struggles to surface in my brain. I see a clock. No, it's a watch resting in the palm of Plutarch Heavensbee's hand. _"It starts at midnight." _Plutarch said. And then my mockingjay lit up briefly and vanishes. It's like he was giving me a clue about the arena. But why would he? At the time, I was no more than a tribute in these Games than he was. Maybe he thought it would help me as a mentor. Or maybe this had been the plan all along. A foreseen event.

Wiress nods at the blood rain, "One-thirty." she says.

"Exactly. One-thirty. And at two, a terrible poisonous fog begins there," I say, pointing at the nearby jungle. "So we have to move somewhere safe now." she smiles and stands obediently. "Are you thirsty?" I ask handing her the woven bowl and she gulps down about a litre. Finnick gives her the last bit of bread and she gnaws on it. With the inability to communicate overcome, she's functioning again.

"I'd like to go to the Cornucopia and watch. Just to make sure we're right about the clock." Peeta says. It seems as good plan as any. I check over my weapons. All my throwing knives are held securely in the holster. My long knifes are held firmly in leather pockets and my axe is held firmly in my hand whilst my bow and quiver of arrows are around my body. Beetee is much better than before thanks to whatever Willow managed to do.

"Wire." he objects as Finnick helps him to his feet.

"She's right there," Finnick tells him, "Wiress is fine. She's coming, too."

Beetee shakes his head and struggles slightly, "No, wire." he insist.

"Oh, I know what he wants." says Johanna impatiently. She crosses the beach and picks up the a cylinder of wire, it's coated in a thick layer of congealed blood. "This worthless thing. It's some kind of wire. That's how he got cut, running up to the Cornucopia to get this. I don't know what kinds of weapon it's suppose to be. I suppose to be. I guess you could pull off a piece and use it as a garrotte or something. But really, can you imagine Beetee garrotting someone?"

I shrug, "He did win his Games with a wire. Setting up that electrical trap," I say, "It's the best weapon he could have."

"Maybe we all had better be careful where we step." Finnick says, shooting me a look as he takes the coil of wire from Johanna and passes it to Beetee, "There's your wire, Volts. Watch where you plug it in."

"Volts?" I mumble.

Finnick smiles, "It's a nickname, he's Volts and she's Nuts."

It was rather clear that Johanna had issued the District 3 pair their strange nicknames however from my time spent with the pair, despite finding the nickname rather rude, it certainly did fit with Wiress and Beetee's personalities rather well. Especially now.

"Lets go to the Cornucopia." I urge everyone considering no-one had moved majorly. Peeta supports Willow, Beetee needs a little watch over so Finnick takes that responsibility whilst Wiress clings onto my hand firmly and Johanna takes the lead protecting us with her sharp eyesight and weapon-use. This wasn't a bad plan going to the Cornucopia because I wouldn't mind the chance of going over the weapons again. And theirs seven of us now. Even if you count Wiress, Beetee and Willow out, we've got four good fighters. It's so different from where I was last year at this point, on my second day I mercy killed Waylon, it was nice not to be responsibility for someone's death today. Yes, it's great to have allies as long as you can ignore the thought that you'll have to kill them.

Beetee and Wiress will no doubt find some way to die on their own. If we have to run from something, how far would they get? Willow I could kill without a second thought because even her breathing pisses me off on a good day. What I really need is for someone to take out Peeta and Johanna because I seriously doubt I can do it personally. Not after Peeta pulling Finnick away from the poisonous fog and Johanna just being there as a friend I can rely on. I think about manoeuvring them into some kind of encounter with the Careers. It's cold, I know but what are my options? Now that we know about the clock, they probably won't die in the jungle, therefore someone is going to have to kill them in battle.

Because this is so repellent to think about, my mind frantically tries to change topics. But the only thing that distracts me from my current situation is fantasizing about killing President Snow, not very pretty daydream for a seventeen-year-old girl with a three month old son, I guess, but it's very satisfying.

As a pack, we walk down the nearest jagged land strip, approaching the Cornucopia with care, just in case the Careers are concealed there. I doubt they are, because we've been on the beach for hours and there;s been no sign of life. The area's abandoned, as I expected. Only the big, golden horn and the picked-over pile of weapons remain. I seat Wiress by the edge of the jagged rocks where the Cornucopia sits, she seems happy singing a funny little song about a mouse running up a clock. Beetee asks Wiress if she could mind cleaning the blood covered coil, she grins happily and snatches it before scrubbing away. Peeta releases Willow from his grip and seats her on a trunk originally holding weapons.

"Two!" she suddenly stands up very straight and points to the jungle. Everyone follows the line of her finger to where the wall of fog has just begun to seep out on to the beach.

"Yes, look. Wiress is right. It's two o'clock and the fog has started." Finnick grins whilst walking over to Wiress and patting her on the shoulder. "You're a genius." he compliments.

Wiress smiles happily and goes back to signing and dunking Beetee's coil in the salt water. Despite her annoyance at Wiress, Johanna's as happy as I've seen her in the arena. Whilst I'm adding arrows to mine and Willows quivers, Johanna pokes me around until she comes up with a pair of lethal-looking axes. It's not an odd choice because when I see her throw one with such force it sticks into the sun-softened gold of the Cornucopia. It's a brilliant choice for her. Johanna Mason. District 7. lumber. No doubt she has been tossing around axes since she could toddle. It's like Finnick and I with our tridents and knot-tying. Or Beetee with his wire. I only now realise how much if a disadvantage District 12 tributes have faced over the years, unlike the other districts, children don't start working in their main production of coal mining until they have qualified to no longer appear at the reapings. Eighteen-years-old.

While I have been messing with the weapons, Peeta's been squatting on the ground, drawing something with the tip of his knife on a black sand on the jagged rock ground. I look over his shoulder and see he's creating a map of the arena. In the centre is the Cornucopia on its circle of sand with the twelve strips branching out from it. At first glance it looks like a pie slice into twelve equal wedges. There's another circle representing the waterline and a slightly larger one indicating the edge of the jungle. "Look how the Cornucopia's positioned." he says to me.

I turn to examine the Cornucopia and see what he means. "The tail points towards twelve o'clock." I say.

He nods, "Right, so this is the top of our clock," he says and quickly scratches the numbers one through to twelve around the clock face. "Twelve to one is the lightning zone." he writes, _lightning _in tiny print in the corresponding wedge, then works clockwise adding _blood rain, fog _and _monkeys _in the following sections.

"And ten to eleven is the wave." I say. Peeta adds it. Finnick and Johanna join us at this point, armed to the teeth with tridents, axes and knives. "Did you notice anything unusual in the others?" I ask Johanna and Beetee, since they might have been something we didn't. But all they've seen is a lot of blood. They shake their heads. "I guess they could hold anything."

"I'm going to mark the ones where we know the Gamemakers' weapons follows us out passed the jungle lining, so we can stay clear of those," says Peeta, drawing diagonal lines on the fog and wave beaches. Then he sits back looking pleased with himself. "Well, it's a lot more than what we knew this morning."

We all nod in agreement, but that when I realise the silence, our song bird has stopped singing. I don't wait to alert the others, I pull free a throwing knife whilst twisting to get a glimpse of a dripping-wet Gloss letting his blade slide through the delicate skin our Wiress' throat, she glides to the ground, her throat slit open in a bright red smile.

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><p><strong>AN:**_ Sorry if this chapter is slightly on the boring side, it's pretty much just filler but please tell me what you think_. _It's almost Christmas! Who is excited? Please review on this chapter!_


	42. Chapter 42: The Cornucopia

Chapter Forty-Two.

**The Cornucopia.**

The tip of my throwing knife disappears into Gloss' right temple, Johanna pushes me aside forcefully to throw her axe which embedded itself into Cashmere's chest. Finnick knocks away a spear Brutus had thrown at Peeta. If there wasn't a Cornucopia to duck behind, they'd be dead, both of the tributes from District 2. _Bang! Bang! Bang! _The death signalling cannons confirms there's no way to help Wiress and no need to finish off Gloss or Cashmere. Finnick, Peeta and Johanna all go in pursuit of Enobaria and Brutus around the side of the horning leaving me alone with crippled Willow and injured Beetee. All I can do is pray no other tributes decide to attack because I doubt I could protect myself, let alone the them as well.

I quickly jerk around the side to try and check on the others and how they are coping with the chase when suddenly, the ground jerks beneath my feet and I'm flung on my side on the sharp rocks. The circle of land that holds the Cornucopia starts spinning fast, really fast and I can see the jungle going by in a blur. I feel the force pulling me towards the water and to save myself from the possibility of being plummeted into the water and drowned, I dig my hands into the stone gaps causing the tips of my fingers to become numb on the sharp edges but when I notice a struggling Willow Combe trying to cling onto the ground in the same way I am, my axe becomes a hook which I use to wedge into the gaps so I can stay onto the Cornucopia island, I reach other to offer my hand to Willow who doesn't look too keen on trusting me however what choice does she have? The slightly older tribute grips my hand firmly but our hands are clammy and it takes three seconds maximum for our bodies to reach complete strain. And then our grips fail and we are thrown into the water.

The water is rushing violently and we are submerged. Still holding hands I can feel Willow's pulse beat rapidly against my wrist, with her broken ankle and the rate with water is rushing, we won't be able to reach the surface for air nor will she be able to kick and keep herself steady. I pull her in closer and press my mouth to hers, against my body, she tenses and I can only guess she assumes that I'm kissing her but what I'm really aiming to do is blow air into her mouth so she can last a little bit longer. Growing up in District 4 I've spent literally all of my life in water so my lungs are better adapted to spending time underwater. Willow doesn't have that tolerance to spending time underwater, hence the air sharing however the rushing water continues and the lack of air begins to take it's toll on Willow because her body tenses up tightly. Throwing myself to to the surface through the bubbling water, I manage to take a breath but swallow a considerable amount of salt water. I attempt to repeat this action with Willow several times but with my head growing incredibly lighter by the minute, my save-yourself instinct began to kick in and Willow wasn't my priority but when her grip loosens on my hand, I panic empting the air from my lungs into hers but when she goes completely limp. I realise that for her to survive passed this, I needed to get her onto land to perform CPR but with a good chance she has water in her lungs which is dangerous.

Then, a cannon sounds and the spinning Cornucopia above me slams to a stop. A limp body travels to the surface of the water before I manage to reach but once I do, I am greeted by the waiting eyes of my companions in a different condition to me. Johanna helps me from the water where I immediately throw up the content of my stomach thanks to the salt water I ingested. Peeta is panicking horrifically as he has to be held back by Finnick who then dives in to check the identity of the floating body. Finnick's eyes meet mine as he wonders how the death of Willow Combe came about as he drags her body to the edge of the jagged rocks for Peeta to realise his district partner has died, the other three dead bodies have been tossed out into the seawater.

The entire thing from Wiress' song to now, can't have taken more than five minutes. We sit there panting, scraping the black sand from their mouths whilst I wait for the remains of my stomach to wash up on the jagged rock. Peeta almost cradles Willow's dead body in his arms.

"Where's Volts?" Johanna asks. They're on their feet, and with one wobbly circle confirms he's gone. Finnick stops him about twenty meters out in the water, barely keeping afloat , and swims out to haul him in.

That's when I remember the coil of wire and how important it was to him. I look frantically around. Where is it? Where is it? And then I see it, still clutched in Wiress' hands, far out in the water. My stomach contracts at the thought of what I must do next. "Cover me." I say to Johanna before tossing aside my weapons and racing down to the strip closes to her body without slowing down, I dive into the water and start for her. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see the hovercraft appearing over us, the claw starting to descend to take her away but I don't stop. I just keep swimming as hard as I can and end up unintentionally slamming into her body. I come up gasping, trying to avoid swallowing the bloodstained water that spreads out from the open wound in her neck. She's floating on her back, borne up by her belt and death, staring into the relentless us. As I tread water, I have to wrench the coil of wire from her dead fingers, because her final grip on it was so tight. There's nothing I can do then but close her eyelids, whisper goodbye and swim away. By the time I swing the coil up on to the jagged rocks and pull myself up from the water, her body's gone. But I can still taste her blood mingled with the sea salt.

I walk back to the golden Cornucopia, Finnick's managed to get Beetee back alive, although he's a little waterlogged, sitting up and snorting out water. At least he had the good sense to hang on to his glasses, so he can see. My eyes flicker to Peeta who is still clinging onto Willow's body. It's strange to think she's dead. Dead like Wiress. Granted the hovercraft never got a chance to pick up Willow's body but she is still dead. I finally remember about the mockingjay pin Vibia had fastened onto my jumpsuit before I entered the arena, unclasping it I edge my way carefully to Peeta who looks almost drained. His blue eyes lock onto mine like a predator but that doesn't stop me from giving the mockingjay pin back to Willow, securely I fasten the item onto the District 12 female victor. I am reluctant to follow the three-finger salute Beetee so gracefully signals but with Peeta's tear filled eyes connecting with mine, I follow along with it. Followed by Finnick, Johanna and then finally Peeta.

Soon, we manage to coax Peeta into letting her body float away into the water so she can go home but the longer we leave him in a state of stillness, the less and less human his eyes become. And as Peeta watched his district partner being carried off by the Capitol hovercraft, his attention turned to me, no doubt for answers because I was the last tribute to see Willow alive and no doubt he assumed the worst. And my lips form his name which I aimed to comfort him, Peeta Mellark has lunged forwards and taken my neck in his hands.

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><p><strong>AN:** _Well, Willow died, it shows that despite not liking each other, Anastasia still tried to save her. What do you think will happen next? Did you enjoy this chapter? Review!_


	43. Chapter 43: Tempers Flaring

Chapter Forty-Three.

**Tempers Flaring.**

Peeta's fingers interlocked around my throat and squeezes, the distant voices of Johanna squawking and Finnick barking orders at Peeta to stop doesn't have any effect on the angry, adrenaline filled District 12 male. Therefore, I see no reason to hold back counter attacking Mr Mellark movements. I grab his wrists tightly and throw my head forwards to crush my forehead against the top bridge of Peeta's nose, hearing the bone crack causing Peeta to release my throat from his clutches. The older and physically stronger tribute stumbles back a few feet to regain himself as blood begins to flow heavily from his nose but that doesn't put him off for long, in fact after a couple of moments, the larger tribute throws himself forwards. I miss his first and second punch however the third has all the adrenaline from the previous hits, my cheekbone almost immediately bruises and the hot dampness of a cut begins to radiate from the area. I can see red beginning to cloud the corners of my vision. Peeta throws a strong punch aiming straight for my nose, I grab his wrist and dart to the side keeping him a lined enough so I could plant several punches to his side before wrapping my arm around the back of his neck, bending his upper body forwards so my knee meets his stomach forcefully making his release a wheezy cough.

I manage to shove Peeta away from me, giving Finnick enough space to pin him against the heated Cornucopia away from me. Johanna takes this opportunity to look look at my face and neck, her face crinkles when she sees the examines the bruising but her fingers glide cautiously over the skin of the damaged area's. "You'll be okay." she whispers.

"Why didn't you save her?!" Peeta screeches across the gap between us.

Laughing, I step forwards only to be met by Johanna's rock solid body. "You don't think I tried!?" I bellow back considering the lack of possibilities to express my anger. "Do you honestly believe I spent that much time underwater drowning her along with myself?" I ask, aiming to make him feel stupid.

"You always hated her!" he snarled back.

Another round of chuckles hit me, "It's not my fault she isn't a strong swimmer!" I snarl. "Maybe we should put you in there and see how long you last, don't forget Twelve who brought you to land at the beginning of the Games!"

Peeta looks a little taken back by that comment because it was true, before any real danger of these Games had become, I saved him from the water, the only reason he has progressed this far was thanks to me bringing him to the beach. If I had wanted to kill him or Willow, I could have in those beginning minutes, discreetly drowned Peeta whilst Finnick takes out the girl or vice versa. Peeta then shows no signs of wanting to kill me after that and he earns enough of Finnick's trust to move from the Cornucopia surface.

We decide to head to the beach at twelve o'clock. That should provide hours of calm and keep us clear of any poisonous residue. And then, Peeta, Finnick and Johanna head off in three different directions leaving Beetee and I looking confused.

"Twelve o'clock, right?" says Peeta, "The tail points to twelve."

"That was before they spun us," replies my district partner, "I was judging by the sun."

"The sun only tells you it's going on four, Finnick." Peeta snaps back.

Huffing, I let Beetee speak considering he looks as if he's bursting to say something intelligent, "Knowing the time doesn't mean you necessarily know where four is on the clock. You might have a general idea of the direction. Unless you consider that they may have shifted the outer ring of the jungle as well." he says.

I am beyond confused by Beetee's articulated theory, I roll my eyes at the sudden complication they have all added to this movement. Therefore, I circle around the Cornucopia and try to locate the tall tree that took the first lightning strike but every section has a similar tree. Johanna suggest following Brutus and Enobaria's tracks but they have been washed away. There's no way of telling where anything is.

"I never should of mentioned the clock," I say bitterly, "Now they've taken that advantage away as well."

"Only temperately," Beetee says comfortingly, "At then, we'll see the wave again and be back on track."

"They could have redesigned the whole arena." Johanna says.

"It doesn't matter," Peeta replies impatiently, "You had to tell us or we never would have moved our camp in the first place." Ironically, his logical, if demeaning, reply Is the only one that comforts me. Yes, I had to tell them to get them to move. "Come on, I need water. Anyone have a good gut feeling?"

From the Cornucopia, we randomly choose a path and take it having no idea what number we're heading for. When we reach the jungle, we peer into it, trying to guess what may be waiting inside.

"Well, it must be monkey hour. And I don't see any of them in there," says Peeta, "I'm going to tap a tree."

"No, it's my turn." says Finnick.

"I'll at least what your back." Peeta insists.

"No, Anastasia can do that," interrupts Johanna, "We need you to make another map." she says pulling off a large leaf and hands it to him before winking back at me. Grinning, I follow Finnick about fifteen meters into the jungle, where he finds a good tree and starts stabbing to make a hole with his knife.

As I stand there, weapons at the ready, I can't lose the uneasy feeling that something is going on and that it has something to do with Finnick and I. I retrace our steps, starting from the moment the gong rang out. Myself towing Peeta in from his metal plate. Finnick reviving me after the forcefield stopped my heart. Peeta forcing Willow to take me whilst he risks himself to carry Finnick. The male morphling throwing himself to block the monkey attack. The fight with the Careers was so quick but didn't Finnick block Brutus' spear from hitting Peeta even through it meant almost taking Enobaria's knife to the thigh? And now Johanna has him drawing a map on a leaf rather than risking the jungle and my safety of us together... Maybe I'm just being paranoid, but it seems like the others are trying to keep us alive. There's a good possibility that I'm just being native but that's just what it seems like to me.

"Anastasia, you got the spile?" Finnick asks, snapping me back to reality. I remove the Velcro holder and remove the spile from the pocket to hand it to him.

That's when I hear the scream. So full of fear and pain it ices my blood. And so familiar that I drop the spile to the ground, completely forgetting where I am or what could lay ahead, I only know that I must reach him, protect him. I run wildly in the direction of the voice, heedless of danger, ripping through vines and branches, through anything that keeps me from reaching him.

From reaching my son.

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><p><strong>AN: **_So, Peeta tried to kill Anastasia, I'm starting to think my characters main attack method is to head butt :L What did you guys think of this chapter? Review!_


	44. Chapter 44: Jabberjay Hour

Chapter Forty-Four,

**Jabberjay Hour.**

_Where is he? What are they going to him? _"Lucas!" I scream out, "Lucas!" Only an agonising cry answers me. _How did he get in here? Why is he part of the Games? _"Lucas!"

Vines cut into my face and arms, creepers grab my feet. But I'm getting closer to him. Closer. Very close, now. Sweat pours down my face, stringing the healing wounds. I pant, trying to get come used out of the warm, moist air that seems empty of oxygen. Lucas makes a sound – such a lost, irretrievable sound – that I can't even imagine what they have done to evoke it. Tears line my eyes as I continue to throw my body weight through the greenery.

"Lucas!" I rip through a wall of green into a small clearing and the sound repeats directly above me. Above me? My head whips back. Do they have him up in the trees? I desperately search the branches but see nothing. "Lucas?" I say pleadingly. I hear him but can't see him. His next wails rings out, clear as a bell, and there's no mistaking the source. It's coming from the mouth of a small, crested black bird perched on a branch about three meters over my head. And then, I understand.

It's a jabberjay.

I've never seen one before – I thought they no longer existed – and for a moment, as I lean against the truck of the tree, clutching the stitch in my side, I examine it. The muttation, the forerunner, the father. I pulled up a mental image of a mockingbird, fuse it with a jabberjay, and yes, I can see how they mated to make the mockingjay. There is nothing about the bird that suggests it's a mutt. Nothing except the horrible lifelike sounds of my son's voice streaming from it's mouth. I silence it with a knife to the throat, the bird plummets to the ground. I remove my arrow from it's body for good measure before hurling the revolting thing into the jungle. No degree of hunger would ever tempt me to eat it.

_It wasn't real, _I tell myself wiping away my tears, smearing them across my face. _The same way the muttation's last year weren't really my dead sister and tributes. It's just a sadistic trick of the Gamemakers._

Finnick crashes through the vines and branches into the clearing to find me holding back the tears and wiping my knife clean of mess with some moss, "Anastasia?" his soft voice asks.

"It's fine. I'm all right." I say, although I don't feel all right at all, "I thought I heard Lucas –" The piercing shriek cuts me off. It's a woman's voice belonging to a woman I have known for years now. It's Annie. The colour vanishes from Finnick's face and I can actually see his pupils dilate in fear. "Finnick, wait!" I say, reaching out to reassure him but he's bolted passed me. Gone off in pursuit of the victim, as mindlessly as I pursued Lucas. "Finnick, please!" I call but I know he won't turn back and wait for me to give a rational explanation. So all I can do is follow him.

It's really no effort to track him, even though he's moving so fast, he leaves a clear, trampled path in his wake. But the bird is at least half a kilometre away, most of it's uphill and by the time I reach him, I'm winded. He's circling around a giant tree, the trunk must be over a metre in diameter and the limps don't even begin until six meters up. The shrieks emanate from somewhere in the foliage but the jabberjay is concealed. Finnick's screaming as well, over and over again. "Annie! Annie!" He's in a completely state of panic and unreachable. I have never seen him in this position before which causes another form of panic to surge through me, touching his arms causes him to flap and talking to him isn't worth the energy. So instead, I do what I would do anyway. I scale an adjacent tree, locate the jabberjay and take it out with another throwing knife. It falls straight down, landing right at Finnick's feet. He picks it up and slowly makes the connection but when I slide down to join him, he looks more despairing than ever.

"It's not her. It's just a jabberjay. It's not her." I tell him softly.

He's face portrays anger now, "How do you think they got that sound. Jabberjay's copy!" he hisses "How do you think they got those sounds?"

I can feel my own cheeks grow pale as I understand his meaning, "No, you don't think..."

"Yes, I do. That's exactly what I think." he spits.

I have an image of Lucas strapped to a table in a white room whilst masked and robed figures elicit those sounds from him. Somewhere they are torching him, or did they already torture him, to get those sounds. My knees go wobbly as I feel my eyes water, Finnick touches my shoulder and says something but I can't hear him. But then cry of another agonising person shatters the air. And it's Michael's.

"Anastasia!" he screams.

Finnick catches my arm before I can run off in search. "It's not him." he suddenly starts to yank me downhill towards the beach. "We're getting out of here." But Michael's voice is so fully of pain I can't help but struggle against Finnick to reach it. "It's not him, Anastasia! It's a mutt!" Finnick shouts at me. "Come on!" He moves me along, half dragging, half carrying me until I can process what he said. He's right, of course, it's just another jabberjay. I can't help my brother by chasing it down. But that doesn't change the fact that it's his voice, and somewhere, sometime, someone, has made him sound like this.

I stop fighting against Finnick, though, and like the night in the fog. I flee what I can't fight. What can only do me harm. Only this time it's my heart and mind, not my body that's being wounded. This must be another weapon of the clock. Four o'clock, I guess. When the hands tick-tock on to the four, the monkeys go home and the jabberjay's come out to play. Finnick is right – getting out of here is the only thing to do. Although there will be nothing Haymitch or Mags can send in a parachute that will help either Finnick or me recover from the scars the birds would have opened.

I catch sigh of Peeta and Johanna standing at the tree line and I'm filled with a mixture of relief and anger. Why didn't Johanna come to help me? Why did no one else come after us? Even now, she hangs back, her hands raised, palms towards us, lips moving but no words reach us. Why?

The wall is so transparent, Finnick and I run smack into it and bounce backwards onto the jungle floor. I'm lucky. My shoulder took the worst of the impact whereas Finnick hits face-first and now his nose is gushing blood. This is why Peeta and Johanna and even Beetee – who I see shaking his head sadly behind them – have not come to our aid. An invisible barrier blocks the area in front of us but it's not a forcefield because you can touch the hard, smooth surface all you like. But Peeta's knife nor Johanna's axe can't make a dent in it. I know, without checking more than a metre to one side, that it encloses the entire four-to-five-o'clock wedge. That we will be trapped like rats inside until the hour passes.

Johanna presses her hand against the surface and I put my own up to meet it, as if I can feel her through the wall. I see her lips moving but I can't hear her, can't hear anything outside our wedge. I try to make out what she's saying, but I can't force, so I just stare at her face, doing my best to hang on to my sanity. That's when the birds begin to arrive, one by one, perching in the surrounding branches. And a carefully orchestrated chorus of horror begins to spill our their mouths. Finnick gives up at once, hunching on the ground, clenching his hands over his ears as if he's trying to crush his skull. I try to fight back but when the birds begin to dive-bomb us, I have no choice but to curl up beside Finnick who eventually touches his fingertips with mine as we try to block out the excruciating sounds of Lucas screaming and crying, Michael, Leila, Annie, Mags and even Cato, they managed to replicate the father of my son's voice into pleading and begging for my help.

Rocking back and forth with my hands on my head is how I get through the hour however I only know when the sixty minutes are up when I feel a set of warm hands on my ice cold skin. But my eyes stay squeezed shut and my hands over my ears because my muscles are too rigid to release. Johanna stays over me, speaking soothing word, rocking me gently. It takes a long time before I begin to relax the iron grip on my body. And when I do, the trembling begins.

"It's okay. The hour is up. The jabberjay's are gone." a soft feminine voice tells me as I shock open like a flower on the jungle floor, terrified that it's a trap.

"Lucas!" I gasp shocking from my curled up state.

Johanna grips my arm tightly, "They won't touch Lucas, nor Michael."

"She's right, Anastasia." says Peeta from his position crouched in front of Finnick, checking on him to see how he is coping but the older victor just waves him away not wanting his comfort.

"Of course I'm right." Johanna growls standing up leaving me on the ground, anger fills her, that's obvious by the underlining hardness in her voice, "The entire country loves your son and brother. If they tortured or did anything to them. Forget the districts, there would be riots in the damn Capitol." she says, I am shocked but she hasn't finished yet, "How does that sound Snow? Why don't we set your backyard on fire! You know, you can't put everybody in here!" she screams angrily.

My mouth falls open, no one, ever, says anything like this in the Games. Well, now Johanna has. Absolutely, they've cut away from her or edited her out but I have heard her and never can I think about her again in the same way. She may never win any awards for kindness but she is beyond gutsy. Or crazy. She picks up a broken coconut shell and begins to walk off into the section. "I'll get you come water." she says.

I can't help but catch her hand as she passes me. "Don't go in here. The birds –" I remember the birds must have gone but I still don't want to take the chances of anyone going in there, especially her.

"They can't hurt me, I'm not like the rest of you. There's no one left I love." Johanna says, and frees her hand with a gentle shake. When she brings me back the broken shell filled with water, I take it with a silent nod of thanks, knowing how much she would hate the pity in my voice.

We all retreat from the jungle and back to the beach where we all separate ourselves in the wedge provided. Finnick adventures into the warm water with his trident because the water calms him more than the victor likes to let on. Beetee fiddles with his coil of wire whilst Johanna goes back into the jungle to get more water leaving Peeta alone with me, who clearly has set aside our dance with trying to kill each other earlier and throws himself down beside me.

"Who did they use against Finnick?" he asks.

I wipe the sweat off my face whilst digging the sharp blade end of my axe into the sand, "Annie." I say like he knows who she is.

He raises an eyebrow, "Who?" he questions.

"Annie Cresta. The girl I volunteered for. She won her games, fourteen, no wait, fifteen years ago." I explain a little more into depth. Still slightly angered by Peeta's behaviour earlier however the blood has dried and been picked off his skin leaving faint traces around the insides of his nostrils.

"Is that the one that went a little..." Peeta trails off.

_Crazy? _I finish in my head but instead I just nod.

"Was that the year of the earthquake?" he asks.

I actually wasn't alive for her Games but I remember the stories my mother told me when we saw Annie in town and she had an episode. When I was six, Annie dropped her basket at the market when a silk dress the same colour of fresh blood made her explode in a fit of screams, I collected the items that fell from her basket and handed it back to her. My mother threw such a tantrum that she banned me returning a apple to her. She told me Annie was unpredictable and dangerous. I didn't believe her and ran off the next time we adventured into town with an apple which I returned to her house. That was the first time I had truly spoken to Annie Cresta.

"Yeah. Annie went a little... mad, after she saw her district partner being beheaded. Ran off by herself and hid away from the Careers. The earthquake broke the dam in the arena and most of it got flooded. She won because she was the best swimmer." I replies.

Peeta raised her eyebrows, "Sort of like you. Surviving because you could swim." he says, I nod not wanting to make the connection between myself and Annie. "What happened to her mind after?"

I lick the inner rim of my top lip, "It depends on the day. She has problems like closing her eyes and covering her ears, laughing when it isn't necessary and staring off into the distance."

"She didn't look too stable at the reaping." he says flatly, "Is that why you volunteered?"

No, it isn't. Annie isn't stable, anyone with a working pair of eyes could see that she isn't all there anymore but truthfully I didn't volunteer for her because I felt sorry for her but to make sure that she, along with Lucas and Michael, are safe and alive. If the rules allowed me to take Finnick's place as well, I would but that isn't the way the Games work. There was also the echoing memories of the goodbyes between me and Cato reply in my head once her name was called and Finnick had already been called. I didn't want them to have to go through the same thing that Cato and I did, the deciding who was going to kill who or the hugs and death filled kisses as one has the life drained from them.

"Something like that." I reply flatly because I don't want to go into depth or continue on with this conversation, therefore we fall silent. Johanna has seated herself beside me and keeps passing my a coconut shell full of fresh water and is really trying hard to keep me hydrated and keeps asking me if I'm okay.

"Did you try to save Willow?" Peeta then asks, his voice is quiet like he's afraid of the question.

Signing, I reply, "Yes, I did. Despite not liking her, she was still my ally."

"Well then, I'm sorry about your neck... and your face." Peeta then apologises sincerely.

With a smile, I turn to look at him staring at me with a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips, "Well, I'm sorry about your nose, side and stomach." I laugh throughout my apology but Peeta doesn't seem to mind. In fact, he seems to be laughing with me.

A cannon blasts silencing mine and Peeta's laughter. A hovercraft appears to be hovering over what we estimate to be the six-to-seven-o'clock zone, we all watch the claw dip down five or six different times to retrieve the pieces of one body, torn apart. I'm literally impossible to identity who it was. Whatever happens at six o'clock, I never want to know. Peeta draws a new map on a leaf, adding _JJ_ for jabberjays in the four-to-five-o'clock section and simply writing _beast _in the one where we saw the pieces of the tribute being collected. We now have a good idea of what seven of the hours will bring. And if there's any positive to the jabberjay attack, it's that it let us know where we are on the clock face again.

Finnick weaves yet another water basket and a net for fishing ready for us to hunt together. Willow usually brought in food if it wasn't supplied by the Capitol sponsors, so now it's our turn since she's gone. We fish together, him using a net and allowing me to screwer fish with his trident. Then the others sit at the edge of the water, cleaning the fish we have collected and watching the sun drop below the horizon. The bright moon is already on the rise, filling the arena with a strange and magical twilight. We're about to settle down to our meal of raw fish when the anthem begins. And then the faces appear...

Gloss, Cashmere, Wiress, The woman from District 5, The male morphling who gave his life for me, Blight, the man from District 10. And Willow Combe from District 12.

Eight dead, plus the eight from the first night. Two-thirds of us are gone in a day and a half. That must be come kinds of record.

"They're really burning through us." I say.

"Who's left? Beside us five and District Two?" asks Finnick.

"Chaff." says Peeta without needing to think about it. Perhaps he's been keeping an eye out for him because of Haymitch Abernathy. A parachute comes down with a pile of bite-sized square-shaped rolls. "These are from your district, right, Beetee?" he asks.

I'm not sure what it is with Finnick and bread but he seems obsessed with handling it. "Twenty-four." he says. "How should we divide them?"

"What makes you think Beetee wants to share them?" I question, lightly.

Beetee pats my arm. "It's fine. We're all allies, if we don't look after each other, who will?" he smiles with such warmth he makes me feel almost idiotic even suggesting.

"All right then. Let's each have three, and whoever is still alive at breakfast can take a vote on the rest." says Johanna. I don't know why this makes me laugh a little, I guess because it's true. When I do, Johanna gives me a look that's almost approving. No, not approving but maybe pleased because she fails to keep a grin from tugging at her lips.

We wait until the giant wave has flooded our of the ten-to-eleven-o'clock section, wait for the water to recede before making camp. Theoretically, we should have a full twelve hours of safety from the jungle. There's an unpleasant chorus of clicking, probably from some evil type of insect coming from the eleven-to-twelve-o'clock wedge. But whatever is making the sound stays within the confines of the jungle and we keep off that part of the beach in case they're just waiting for a carelessly placed footfall to swarm out.

I really don't know how Johanna's still on her feet, she's only had about an hour of sleep since the Games started. Finnick sleep is restless, every now and then I hear him murmuring Annie's name but I don't wake him. He needs to sleep. I manage to coax Peeta and Beetee into taking first watch so I can attempt to get Johanna to catch up on some sleep, granted, she does put up a fight but I clasp my arms around her and pull her down, pinning her to stay close to the ground and soon, after half an hour of struggling, Johanna Mason, the deadly tribute who tricked everyone that she was helpless and vulnerable, falls asleep tucked in my arms.

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><p><strong>AN:**_ I really hate the idea of jabberjay's, I would have gone completely mad. What did you guys think about this chapter? Did you like the end with Johanna? Review._


	45. Chapter 45: The Plan

Chapter Forty-Five.

**The Coil of Wire Plan.**

When I wake, I have a brief moment of happiness due to the still sleeping Johanna Mason in my arms, however my grip seems to have loosened on her giving the lean woman a chance to turn round so she is chest to chest with me but somehow I have become the little spoon in this situation and despite my arms being around Johanna, my head rests in the junction of her neck with her head arched slightly upwards so her chin rests comfortable against the top of my head.

It's strange to be so happy about a little human contact, completely absurd considering at the rate things are progressing, I will be dead in a day give or take. Sixteen dead in two days, if the pattern continues on we will have a clear victor on the third day – today – and then this will all be over.

Everyone aside from Johanna is awake and now watching the descent of a parachute of bread. It's identical to the one we received the night before. Twenty-four rolls from District 3. that gives us thirty-three in all. We each take five, leaving eight in reserve. No one says it but eight will divide perfectly after the next death in our pack. Somehow, in the light of day, joking about who will be around to eat the rolls has lost its humour. Looking around the group discreetly, I wonder how long this alliance will last. Who will stab, throw or shoot first when the time is right? Who will betray who's trust first? Who will fight and who will submit? Or will they all refuse?

After we finish eating, I turn to Peeta and tug him towards the water, "Come on, I'll teach you to swim." I say in a desperate attempt to get into someone's personal good books to expand my chances of survival when the time comes. I tell him to remove his belt because it keeps him afloat, Peeta actually trusts me enough to put his life in my hands because it's possible for someone to drown in a puddle, how crazy, and this young tribute is confident enough with me to let me be in charge of his survival in a large sea like lake.

First I teach him not to be afraid of the water. Second how to tread water keeping his head above the ground, once he's learned that, I move onto kicking. Holding his hands and extending his body out, Peeta kicks fluently. At first, I notice Johanna watching us carefully but eventually loses interest and goes to speak to Beetee, who yet again, his fiddling with the coil of wire. Peeta and I move onto simply strokes like breast stroke and freestyle, his movement aren't fluent but I guess that'll come with practise. And then his big moment arrived, from one land strip, I stand a couple meters back and tell him to swim to me, he does but latches onto me when he reaches me. "Well done!" I beam happily rubbing his shoulders. Next we swim the entire wedge side-by-side until he is confident doing it himself.

I congratulate him just as Johanna calls our names, beckoning us to the land. We race to the shore – I won – and joined the rest of our allies on the beach. It seems the hours of endless fiddling has finally paid off and Beetee has indeed come up with a plan.

"I have a plan," he announces when we are all gathered beneath the shade of a tree, "Where do the Career's feel safest? The jungle?" he asks.

"The jungles a nightmare." I murmur.

"Probably here on the beach." Peeta says.

Beetee looks up at him with a questioning expression, "Then why are they not here?" he asks.

"Because we are," Johanna says firmly, "We claimed it."

"And if we left, they would come?" Beetee asks.

Finnick shuffles forwards, "Or stay hidden in the tree line."

"Which in just over hour hours will be soaked with water from the ten o'clock wave," Beetee grins, I shrug as if to say _'so?' _but Beetee wasn't finished. "And what happens at midnight?"

"Lighting strikes that tree." I reply.

The District 3 male nods at me, "Here's what I propose, we leave the beach at dusk and head to the lighting tree –" he points towards the large tree in the twelve-to-one-o'clock wedge, "– That should draw the Careers back to the beach."

"Then what?" Johanna asks impatiently.

"Prior to midnight, we then run this wire from the tree to the water." Beetee explains on as if never interrupted, "Anyone in the water, or on the damp sand, will be electrocuted."

"How do we know the wire isn't going to burn up?" I question, not wanting to put a dampener on a brilliant plan but someone had to be thinking it.

Beetee grins at me with such confidence it almost looks like a look Finnick Odair would give to a adoring Capitol lover, "Because I invented it, and I assure you, it won't burn up."

We are all silent for a minute, Finnick, Johanna, Peeta and I all exchange looks, shrugs and eyebrow raises as we all sit absorbing Beetee's plan because, it was brilliant and saves us time and energy hunting the deadly Career's down but it also saves putting our lives in danger trying to look for them in a jungle they have spent more time in than we have.

"It's certainly better than hunting them down." I say.

Peeta nods, "Yeah, why not? If it fails, no harm down anyway, right?"

The others nods but something feels off, he surely cannot just be giving us this brilliant plan but not want something in return, which is why I'm so glad that Finnick speaks.

"So, what can we do to help?" asks my district partner.

Beetee grins, "Keep me alive for the next six hour, that would be every helpful."

The plan was set but Beetee wants to inspect the lightning tree before he has to rig it. We have to leave our beach camp soon, anyway. So we walk to the beach that borders the lighting section, and head into the jungle. I let Johanna take the lead because it's a pretty straight shot up to the tree, and I figure she can't get us too lost. The dense, muggy air weights on me, there's been no break from it since the Games began. I wish Mags would send me some cold water, anything. I'm grateful for the fluid from the three but it's the same temperature as the seawater and the air and the other tributes, and me. We're all just one big, warm stew.

As we near the tree, Finnick suggests I take the lead, "Anastasia can hear the forcefield." he explains to Beetee and Johanna. Guess who I'm not fooling with that? Beetee. Because surely he remembers that he is the one who showed me how to spot a forcefield, and probably it's impossible to hear forcefield's, anyway. But, for whatever reason, he doesn't question Finnick's claim and simply smiles.

"Then, by all means, let Anastasia go first," he says, pausing for a moment to wipe the steam off his glasses. "Forcefields are nothing to play around with."

"Oh, believe me, Anastasia knows that." Peeta scoffs.

Johanna raises her eyebrows, "What?"

"She kind of tried to axe her way through one... and died." Finnick explains lightly.

The two tributes who weren't present for that particular event, their eyes widen and jaws drop as they stare at me for a second. I simple grin at them simply out of nerves but refuse to speak about it. I'm slightly annoyed at Peeta for letting the accidental death slip into the open. However, I don't say anything and simply move passed them to take the lead.

The lightening tree's unmistakeable as it towers so high above the others, I find a bunch of nuts and make everybody wait while I move slowly up the slope, tossing the nuts ahead of me. But I see the forcefield almost immediately, even before a nut hits it, because it's only about fifteen meters away. My eyes, which are sweeping the greenery before me, catch sight of the rippled square high up and to my right. I throw a nut directly in front of me and hear it sizzle in confirmation.

"Just say this side of the lightning tree, don't try to go all the way around." I tell the others.

We divide up our duties. Finnick guards Beetee whilst he examines the tree, Johanna taps for water, Peeta collects nuts in a woven bowl and I hunt nearby. The tree rats don't seem to have any fear of humans, so I take down three easily. The sound of the ten o'clock wave reminds me I should get back, and I return to the others and clean my kill. Then I draw a line in the dirt a meter from the forcefield as a reminder to keep back, and Peeta and I settle down to roast nuts and sear cubes of rat. Beetee is still messing around with the tree, doing I don't know what, taking measurements or something bizarre. Soon we hear the clicking from the section adjacent to us. That means it's eleven o'clock. It's far louder in the jungle that it was on the beach last night. We listen intently.

"It's not mechanical." Beetee says decidedly.

"Might be insects." I suggest. "Something with pincers."

Johanna shudders. And I grin. "We should get out of here, anyway." she says, gathering her axe from the ground. "There's less than an hour before the lightening starts." We don't go that far, thought. Only to the identical tree in the blood-rain section. We have a picnic of sorts, squatting on the ground, eating our jungle food and waiting for the bolt that signals noon.

We take a route back to the ten o'clock beach. The sand is smooth and damp, swept clean by the recent wave. Beetee essentially gives us the afternoon off while he works with the wire. Since it's his weapon and the rest of us have to defer to his knowledge so entirely, there's the odd familiar feeling of being let out of school early. At first we take turns having naps in the shadowy edge of the jungle, but by late afternoon everyone is awake and restless. We decide, since this might be our last chance for seafood, to make a sort of feast of it. Under Finnick's – and a little of mine – guidance, we all spear fish and gather shellfish, even dive for oysters. I like the last part the best, not because I have any great appetite for oysters. I've tasted them in District 4 but never liked them, couldn't get around the sliminess. But it's lovely deep down under the water, like being in a different world. The water's very clear, and schools of brightly coloured fish and strange sea flowers decorate the sand floor.

As I'm deep underwater, I actually feel at home and that's when I decide that if I was to perish, right now, it wouldn't mind knowing this could be one of the last views I witness. It's too beautiful, calm and incredibly peaceful. Death wouldn't be so bad here.

Johanna keeps watch while Finnick, Peeta and I clean and lay out the seafood. We are about to eat when a parachute appears bearing two supplements to our meal. A small pot of sweet red sauce and yet another round of rolls from District 3. Finnick, of course, immediately counts them. "Twenty-four again." he says.

Thirty-two rolls, then. So we each take five again, leaving seven knowing that will never divide equally. It's bread for only one. The salty fish flesh, the succulent shellfish and even the oysters seem tasty, vastly improved by the sauce. We gorge ourselves until no one can hold another bite, and even then there are leftovers. They won't keep though, so we toss all the remaining food back into the water so the Career's won't get it when we leave. No one bothers about the shells. The wave should clear those away. There's nothing to do now but wait.

I join Finnick at the waters edge and slip my hand into his. There is no hesitation and he interlocks our fingers, holding on tightly. "Finnick, I want you know how much you mean to me, the last four years have been the best of my life thanks to you and Annie, and Mags. You helped me get my brother back. You helped me. I cannot pay you back for all you've done." I say, trying ever so hard not to allow the tears to push passed my lash line but they do, Finnick sees this and his hand removes itself from my grip along with his free hand, gently cup my face.

"Listen to me, Anastasia. Don't you dare say your goodbyes. You're not going to die, not here." he says firmly, his hands keep me facing straight on but I close my eyes to avoid his gaze, but the gentle stroke of a finger beneath my eyes causes me to open them. "Your son needs you. Your brother needs you. Annie and Mags need you. I need you to stay strong for them as well as me. Okay? Beetee's plan is going to work."

"I know, but what happens after that?" I question quietly, "Once the Career's are dead it's just us five. That's it. I don't want to be the one who shoots first."

Finnick shakes his head, "You won't have too. I promise you that Princess."

It's a gentle kiss on top of my forehead that signals this conversation is over but Finnick doesn't move away, instead, he returns to holding my hand as we stare out into the jungle across the water. My locket lays beneath my jumpsuit, never to be revealed but surely Michael and my son will see it very soon, knowing that they were in my thoughts during my last moments should satisfy them a little. Take away some of the pain. Hopefully, Michael will have the common sense to keep it from Lucas, and bury the locket with my body.

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><p><strong>AN:** _Ooh, the plan is set. What did you think of this chapter? Review!_


	46. Chapter 46: Possible Last Glance

Chapter Forty-Six.

**Possible Last Glance.**

_*Finnick's POV*_

The anthem begins but there are no faces in the sky tonight. The audience will be restless, thirsting for blood. Beetee's trap holds enough promise, that the Gamemakers haven't sent in other attacks. I guess they are just as curious to see if it'll work as I am.

At what I judge to be nine, we leave our shell-strewn camp, cross to the twelve o'clock beach, and begin to quietly hike up to the lightning tree in the light of the moon. Our full stomachs make us more uncomfortable and breathless than we were on the morning's climb. Anastasia now looks as if she is regretting those last dozen oysters as she walks behind Johanna, I couldn't tell if it was nerves or adrenaline that caused the youngest victor to pinch the axe in her hands tighter, but whatever it was, she looked ready for trouble if it was to accrue.

Beetee asks her to assist him whilst the rest of us stand guard. Before he even attaches any wire to the tree, Beetee unrolls meters and meters of the stuff, he then has Anastasia secure it tightly around a broken branch and lay it on the ground. Then they stand on either side of the tree, passing the spool back and forth a they wrap the wire around and around the trunk. At first it seems random but then I see a pattern emerge, like an intricate maze, appearing in the moonlight of Beetee's side. From the look in Anastasia's eyes, I can tell she is wondering if it makes any different how the wire's placed, or if it merely to add to the speculation of the audience. I bet most of them know as much about electricity as I do.

The work on the trunk's completed just as we hear the wave begin. I've never really worked out at what point in the ten o'clock hour it erupts. There must be some build-up, then the wave itself, then the aftermath of the flooding. But the sky tells me ten-thirty.

This is when Beetee reveals the rest of the plan. Since they move most swiftly through the trees, he wants Johanna and Anastasia to take the coil down through the jungle, unwinding the wire as they go. The pair are to lay it across the twelve o'clock beach and drop the metal spool, with whatever is left of the wire, deep into the water, making sure it sinks. Then run for the tree in the two o'clock section and we will meet them there, if they go now, right now, they should make it to safety.

"I want to go with them, as a guard." I say immediately, after our endless heart-to-hearts, cuddling and hand holding sessions, I am less willing to let Anastasia out of my sight but I know it's trouble but it's worth fighting for it if she gets to live a little longer.

"No, you're staying here to protect me. And the tree." Beetee says intellectually. "There are two Career's out there, I need two guards."

I can see Anastasia wanting to answer back to Beetee, no doubt with the idea that Johanna and Peeta can protect him whilst she and I take the coil to the water but there is no negotiation, therefore, I shoot Johanna a look that she absorbs perfectly but doesn't speak the words I wanted to hear. Instead of "Finnick, you go and I'll stay to protect Beetee and the tree." she says instead: "I'll keep her safe, Finnick."

Giving her a brief nod, I know she will keep her safe. That isn't what I'm bothered about, its the fact that I can't protect her from a distance, but Beetee's right, with their lean, feminine bodies, Peeta nor I could get down the ridged stone slopes fast enough, I can't think of an alternative. And if I trust anyone else here, it's Johanna.

"Come here, you." Anastasia teases gesturing me forwards with her head, grinning I walk over and engulf her in my arms. A sweaty, stinky hug. "I'll see you at midnight." she whispers in my ear. Slowly moving apart, I can see Beetee running through the plan with Peeta and Johanna giving me and Anastasia a little break from their view, giving me enough time to timidly, press my lips against hers but this time, I can feel Anastasia kissing me back, she didn't go ridged or tense, she remained relaxed. Then, I feel something, a thing I have only felt once before, there was that one kiss with Annie that made me feel something stir deep inside of me. Like a rock had suddenly been placed in my stomach and a firework burning in my chest.

I let her go, suddenly becoming aware of the dozens of Capitol Gamemakers eyes watching us from hidden cameras. "You better get going." I tell her before she has time to object. Johanna takes the coil from Beetee before nudging Anastasia forwards from my arms, she goes without a fuse knowing that kicking up one would only arouse suspicion.

"See you soon." Johanna whispers to us, we reply in a wave of goodbyes but my gaze is fixed on my district partner, Anastasia Hollern, newest victor. New mother. One of the most important people in the world to me. I want her descend into the unknown protected by Johanna. And as she turns back to connect eyes with me, I know she's thinking the same thing, that these small looks could be the last between us if something terrible was to happen. These could be our last glimpses of each other. And then, she is gone into the greenery.

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><p><strong>AN: **_You guys said you enjoyed reading things from Finnick's POV and I really hope you liked this chapter. What did you guys think, make sure you review and tell me. __I was having a conversation with my friend at college and the subject of first kisses came up. __Out of curiosity, what was your first kiss like? Tell me :D _


	47. Chapter 47: The Escape

Chapter Forty-Seven.

**The Arena Break.**

There is no discussion. Johanna and I head down the slope, she holds the coil firmly in her right hand as we climb over rocks and various pieces of discarded jungle. Surprisingly, there is little discussion between Jo and myself but I think that's more because we are both worried about the Careers still wondering free but hopefully after Beetee's plan, we won't have to worry about them. We move at a pretty good pace, one manning the coil whilst the other keeps watch. About halfway down, we hear the clicking beginning to rise, indicating it's after eleven.

"We better hurry," Johanna encourages lightly, "We really want to put as much distance between us and that beach as possible. In case Volts miscalculated something, frying is not how I want to go."

I nod, frying isn't exactly how I planned on pegging out either but so far neither of us have got what we really wanted out of life, "I'll take the coil." I say, it's harder work laying out the wire than guarding, and she's had a long turn. It's only fair we swap now. Johanna doesn't argue and passes me over the coil before we continue on for a good ten meters, then something catches the wire. We stop to see if I can pull it free. Suddenly, the thin golden wire from above us on the slope, springs down at us, bunching in tangled loops and curls around our feet. Then the severed end joins the pile as I throw the metal cylinder backwards as it only takes a second for us to register this rapid turn of events, Johanna and I turn to look at each other, but neither of us has to say it. Someone not far above us has cut the wore. And they will be on us at any moment.

My bow is removed from my back and my hand just closes on the feather of an arrow when the metal cylinder smashes into the side of my head. The next thing I know, I'm laying on my back in the vines, a terrible pain in my temple. Something is wrong with my eyes, my vision blurs in and out of focus as I strain to make the two moons floating up in the sky into one. It's hard to breath, and then I realise Johanna is sitting on my chest, pinning me down at the shoulders with her knees.

There's a stab in my left forearm, I try to jerk away but I'm too incapacitated. Johanna's digging something, I guess the blade of my knife from my belt into my flesh, twisting it around. There's an excruciating ripping sensation and then a sudden warmth runs down my forearm, across my wrist and pooling at my palm. She swipes her hand across my arm before coating half my face with my own blood. A sudden warmth invades my lips, and even with my blurry vision I see an incredibly close Johanna with her eyes closed. She was momentarily kissing me.

"Stay down!" she then hisses close to my face. Her weight leaves my body and I'm alone. _Stay down? _I think, _why? What is happening? _My eyes shut, blocking out the inconsistent world as I try to make sense of my situation. All I can think of now is Johanna shoving Wiress to the ground with a snarl, "_Just stay down."_ But she didn't attack Wiress. Not like this. I'm not Wiress, anyway. I'm not Nuts. But she did kiss me. Or was that a fragment of my imagination caused by the blow to the head? "_Just stay down." _echoes around inside my brain.

Footsteps coming. Two pairs. Heavy, not trying to conceal their whereabouts. Brutus's voice. "She's as good as dead! Come on, Enobaria." Feet moving into the night.

Am I dead? I drift in and out of consciousness looking for an answer. Am I as good as dead? I'm in no position to make an argument to the contrary. In fact, rational thinking is a struggle. This much I know. Johanna attacked me, kissed me and then left me. Smashed that cylinder into my head. Cut my arm, probably doing damage to veins and arteries, and then the remaining Careers showed up before she had time to finish me off. The alliance is over. Peeta and Johanna must have had an agreement to turn on Finnick and I tonight. I don't know where Beetee stands. But I'm fair game, and so is Finnick.

_Finnick! _My eyes fly open in panic. Finnick is waiting up by the tree, unsuspecting and off guard. Maybe Peeta has killed him already. "No." I whisper. The wire was cut from a short distance away by the Careers. Finnick, Beetee and Peeta – they couldn't know what was going on down here. They can only be wondering what has happened, why the wire has gone slack or maybe sprung back to the tree. This, in itself, can't be a signal to kill, can it? Surely this was just Johanna deciding the time had come to break with us. Kill me. Escape from the Careers. Then bring Peeta into the fight as soon as possible.

I don't know what's happening! I don't know! The only thing I know is that I must find Finnick again, but what if he's in on it as well? No, he wouldn't, surely. It takes every ounce of will I have to push up into sitting position and drag myself up the side of a tree to my feet. It's lucky I have something to hold on to because the jungle's tilting back and forth. Without any warning, I lean forward and vomit up the seafood feast, heaving until there can't possible be any oyster left in my body. Trembling and slick with sweat, I assess my physical condition.

The last time I vomited in the Games was because of the unknowing child I was holding in my stomach. This time I was very certain that I wasn't in fact pregnant. As I lifted up my damaged arm, blood sprays me in the face and the world makes another alarming shift. I squeeze my eye closed and cling to the tree until things steady a little. Then I take a few careful steps to a neighbouring trees, pull off some moss, and without examining the wound further, tightly bandage my arm. It's better, defiantly better not to see it. Then I allow my hand to tentatively touch my head wound. There's a large lump but not too much blood, obviously I have internal damage but I don't seem to be in danger of bleeding to death. At least not through my head. I dry my hands on moss and get a shaky grip on my axe with my undamaged right arm. The glistening bow and quiver of arrows remain settled on my back as I make my feet move up the slope.

Finnick must be alive because no cannon has fired, which means so is Beetee, Peeta, Johanna and the Careers. Maybe Johanna acted alone, knowing that Peeta and/or Finnick would side with her once the intentions were clear. Although it's hard to guess what goes on between the three of them, there's a much deeper alliance there based on years of friendship and who knows what else. Therefore, if Johanna has turned on me, I should no longer trust Peeta. Finnick, I couldn't pin point how I feel right now about it because despite knowing me more intimately , e.g. living in the same village, sharing hugs, occasional kisses and protecting one another. He has known Johanna a lot longer, been there for each other on more occasions. If he was too choice between us, could he kill Johanna, his friend. Or would he join her and kill me, his district partner.

The sound of someone running down the slope towards me, neither Beetee nor Peeta could move at this pace, I duck behind a curtain of vines – much like the ones the male morphling used to remain hidden – concealing myself just in time. Finnick flies by me, his skin shadowy, leaping through the undergrowth like a deer. He soon reaches the sight of my attack, taking in the sight of a cylinder pattered with blood along with the jungle floor. "Anastasia! Johanna?!" he calls, I stay put until he goes off in the direction Johanna had lead the Careers. I move as quickly as I can without sending the world into a whirl. My head throbs with the rapid beat of my heart. The insects must be excited by the smell of blood because they have increased clicking until it's a continuous roar in my ears. No, wait, maybe my ears are actually ringing from the hit. Until the insects shut up, it will be impossible to tell.

The boom of a cannon pulls me up short. Someone has just died. I know that with everyone running around armed and scared right now, it could be anybody. But whoever it is, I believe the death will trigger a kind of free-for-all out here in the night. People will kill first and wonder about their motives later. I force my legs into a run. Something then snags at my feet and I sprawl out on the ground. I feel it wrapping around me, entwining me in sharp fibres. A net! This must be one of Finnick's fancy nets, positioned to trap me, and he must be nearby, trident in hand with the pass buried beneath the dirt. I trail around for a moment, only working the web more tightly around me, and then I catch a glimpse of it in the moonlight. Confused, I lift my left arm carefully and see it's entangled in shimmering golden threads. It's not one of Finnick's nets at all, but Beetee's wire. I carefully rise to my feet and find I'm in a patch of the stuff that caught on a truck on its way back to the lightning tree. Slowly, I untangle myself from the wire, step out of it's reach, and continue uphill.

On the food side, I'm on the right path and have not been so disoriented by the head injury as to lose my sense of direction. On the bad side, the wire has reminded me of the upcoming lighting storm. I can still hear the insects, but are they starting to fade? Everything is so messed up. I keep the loops of wire a meter to my left as a guide as I run but take great care not to touch them. If those insects are fading and the first bolt is about to strike the tree, then all it's power will come surging down that wire and anyone in contact with it will be fried.

The towering tree swims into view, it's truck decorated with gold. I slow down, try to move with some stealth but I'm really just lucky to be staying upright. I look for a sign of the others. No one. No one is there. "Finnick?" I call softly. "Peeta?"

A soft moan answers me and I whip around to find a figure lying on the ground, several meters from the tree twitching horribly. "Beetee!" I exclaim watching the forcefield return back to it's usual mirrored state. I hurry and kneel beside him, the moan must have been involuntary. He's not conscious, although the only wound I see if a gash on his elbow, clumsily I wrap moss around it whilst trying to rouse him. "Beetee? What's going on! Beetee?!" I plead, shaking him in the way you should never shake a healthy person, let alone an injured one but I don't know what else to do, my heart rate has sky rocketed and I'm panicked with too much adrenaline. He moans again, and briefly raises a hand to ward me off.

This is when I notice the stick laying beside him, it's a good meter long with his knife tied to the end using the golden wire from the coil. I stand and lift the wire, confirming that it's attached to the tree. It takes me a moment to remember the second, much shorter strand that Beetee wound around a branch and left on the ground before he even began his design on the tree, how could I not have thought that was suspicious earlier? I helped him wrap the wire, I suppose I never thought anything of it, thinking it was of some electrical significance, had been set aside to be used later. But it never was, because there's probably a good twenty, twenty-fire meters here. It's most defiantly usable and from the state of Beetee and the object he has created, he had a good intention of using it for something.

I squint hard, catching the glimmering of the forcefield. What did Beetee try to do? Did he actually attempt to drive that object through the forcefield the way I did by accident with my axe? And what's the deal with the wire? Was this his back-up plan? If electrifying the water failed, did he mean to send the lightning bolt's energy into the forcefield? What would that do, anyway? Nothing? A great deal? Fry us all? The forcefield must mostly be energy, too, I guess. The one in the Training Centre was invisible. This one seems to somehow mirror the jungle. But I've seen it falter, when I was so up close and even when the nuts hit it gently. The real world lies right behind it.

My ears are not ringing. It was the insects after all. I know that now because they are dying out quickly and I hear nothing but the jungle sounds. Beetee is useless. I can't rouse him. I can't save him. I don't know what he was trying to do with the makeshift spear and the wire and he's incapable of explaining. The moss bandage on my arm is soaked and there's no use fooling myself. I'm so light-headed, I'll black out in a matter of minutes. I've got to get away from this tree and –

"Anastasia!" I hear his voice through the greenery. He is close. I know that by the echoing footsteps. Tossing my axe aside, I remove the unused bow and a single arrow from my quiver resting on my back, loading the bow, I hide in the long plants waiting and watching the area surrounding me. Another cannon sounds provoking another scream of my name. Finnick slides into the area, he can't see me, if I aim for the heart it will be painless. Raising my bow into position, Beetee's breathing is faint behind me. He and I will die soon anyway, Finnick might die. Another two cannons sound. Brutus, Johanna, Chaff. Two of them are already dead. If I decide not to kill Finnick, that leaves him with one tribute to kill. And that is the very best I can do. One enemy.

_Enemy. Enemy. _The word is tugging at my mind, my nerves and my limps, tightening my grip on the bow and arrow.

"Anastasia! Where are you!" Finnick screams, his trident is gently glistening with blood. He has killed recently. I close my eye momentarily to release the faint tears shimmering in my eyes. He looks around frantically, his heart beat is so loud I can hear it from where I crouch. As I ready my posture, I can see myself on television and how bad it must look right now, Annie is no doubt screaming whilst Michael begs me not to let the arrow fly. But President Snow, I bet, is loving it. His words repeat and repeat inside my mind, I imagine his face displaying his signature snake smile. "_Let it fly, Miss Hollern. Let it fly."_ he whispers. My pulse hammers in my ears as I ready myself, the arrow pulled back and aimed just how Willow taught me in our training sessions.

Finnick Odair's eyes then connect with mine, his face goes from worried, to frightened. An emotion I had never seen on the face of Finnick, ever. He raises his hands up sightly as he gobbles up the image of me with a bow and arrow, aimed at him. Aimed for the kill. "Anastasia," his voice trembles not at all masked by his heavy breathing, "Remember who the real enemy is." he says. Why would he remind me? I have always known who the enemy is. Who starves and tortures and kills us in the arena. Who will soon kill everyone I love. My bow drops as his meaning registers.

Yes, I know who the enemy is. And it's not Finnick or the other tributes.

"Anastasia, get away from that tree!" he warns as the storm above us begins, the tumbling of thunder and collection of dark clouds, I finally see Beetee's spear with clear eyes. My shaking hands collect the ringlets of wire cut from the coil, wind it around the base of the head of my arrow, and securing it with a knot. I rise, looking up to the top of the dome where the clouds cluster, fulling revealing myself but no longer caring. Only caring about where I should direct my tip, where Beetee would have driven the spear if he had been able to choose? My bow tilts up towards the sky, the flaw... the, what did he call it that day? The chink in the armour.

"Get away from that tree!" Finnick bellows before taking off, sprinting towards me, "Anastasia!" But it's too late, I let the arrow fly just as the lightning makes it way directly downwards towards the tree, the arrow hit its mark and vanishes, pulling the thread of gold wire behind it. My hear stands on end as the lightning strikes the tree.

A flash of white runs up the wire, and for just a moment, the dome bursts into a dazzling blue light. I'm thrown backwards to the ground, body useless, paralysed, eyes frozen wide as feathery bits of matter rain down on me. I can't reach Finnick, he too was thrown backwards from the blast. My eyes strain to capture one last image of beauty to take with me. Right before the explosions begin, I find a star.

Everything seems to erupt at one. The earth explodes into showers of dirt and plant matter. Three burst into random flames. I lay motionless because I can't do anything else, blinking and breathing are a effort but if that's all I'm required to focus on then so be it. Just in case it wasn't fun enough watching the destruction of the arena, the Gamemakers seem to think that the obliteration of the remaining tributes would be interesting. Or perhaps to illuminate our glorious ends to mark a milestone in preparation for the life of his great granddaughter. Will they let anyone survive? Will there be a victor of the Eighty-fifth Hunger Games? What was it President Snow read from the card?

"_... and a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol." _

Not even the strongest of the strong will triumph. Maybe they never intended to have a victor in these Games after all. Truly make it fresh for a new generation. Or perhaps my final act of rebellion forced their hand. _I'm sorry Finnick, Michael, Lucas, Annie... _anyone who will suffer because of this act. Most likely I stole their last chances of having a semi-normal life.

The hovercraft appears above me without warning, however it seems to have come from the outside. If it was quiet, and a mockingjay perched close at hand. I would have heard the jungle go silent and then catch the bird's call that precedes the appearance of the Capitol's aircraft. But my ears could never make out anything so delicate in this bombardment. The claws drop from the underside until it's directly overhead. The metal talons slide under me, I want to scream, run, smash my way out but I'm frozen, helpless to do anything but fervently hope I die before I reach the shadowy figure awaiting me above. They have not spared my life to crown me victor but to ensure my death as slow and as public as possible.

My worst fears are confirmed when the face that greets me inside the hovercraft belongs to Plutarch Heavensbee, Head Gamemaker. What a mess I have made of his beautiful Games with the clever ticking clock and a field of victors. He will suffer for his failure, probably lose his life, nothing he doesn't deserve but not before he sees me punished. With his thumb and his forefinger, he looks into my eyes, almost checking my vitals but as a last insult, I half spit and half drool out blood from my mouth, he doesn't jerk back but he isn't impressed. My heart pounds so hard the blood begins to stream from beneath my soaked moss bandage and my ears tickle with the same wet sensation as my nose. My thoughts grow foggy. Possibly I can bleed to death before they can revive me, and with the amount I can feel leaking out of me as if I'm a tap, there's a good chance it was a possibility. And I don't give two shits. In my mind, I whisper a thank you to Johanna Mason for the excellent wound she inflicted, then my son, Lucas Cato Hollern flashes before my eyes, just as I black out.

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><p><strong>AN: **_Several things I want you're opinion on. 1) The kiss with Johanna. 2) Anastasia actually thinking about killing Finnick. 3) The arena break. 4) Do you think Anastasia is going to die? The wound seemed pretty bad and she is ready to let it all go. Make sure you review and tell me._


	48. Chapter 48: The Hovercraft

Chapter Forty-Eight.

**PART IV: THE HIDDEN PLANS.**

**The Hovercraft.**

Why am I not dead? I should be. I want to me. How am I still alive? There are brief moments where I swim in and out of consciousness, the first time I drifted back to the surface there was a pinching sensation after I realise the trails of tubes in my left arm. Then blackness. Now when I come to consciousness, I only to get a glimpse of a metal ceiling before the dark engulfs me. Each time I submerge, I pray for death, it will be a victory. I'm largely unavailable to move in my small moments of life, unable to raise my head or blink normally. My right arm has a little motion where as my left remains completely paralysed, I have no motor coordination, no proof that I even still have fingers. However it's obvious they are trying to keep me alive, a digging pain remains continuously around my nose and mouth, suggesting an oxygen mask. _Just let me die! _I scream in my head, managing to swing my right arm over like a flipper and messily rip the tubes out from my left arm before smashing my head so hard against the table that I knock myself out. I do not stay conscious to see who will come to reconnect me to whatever machine that's keeping me alive, I don't care. I just pray I die before they get the chance to reconnect me.

To my disgust, I do wake up again but this time, it's for real. I jerk into sitting position at the sudden burst of life. I'm fully awake, I raise my hand and find I have all ten fingers which I can move at my command. My arms work and my left is without tubes but bandaged up tightly but the wires hang across the floor beside the patted mat where I lay. Looking around, I am still inside the hovercraft however it's strangely different, a row of seats are placed up against each wall with a walkway between them where I and a unconscious Beetee had been placed. We both wear transparent masks attached to metal oxygen bottles which are secured on the seats above us and are connects to ECG machines that beat along to the regular beats of our hearts however Beetee still remains connected to a bag of blue liquid via an IV.

Seeing Beetee makes me question the whereabouts of the others. Finnick, Peeta, Enobaria and... oh, one more, right? Johanna or Chaff or Brutus was still alive when the arena blew. But where have they taken them? Where are me and Beetee? It didn't look like a Capitol hospital, it couldn't be surely.

"Finnick..." I whisper before ripping the oxygen mask from my face, the sudden impurity of the air hits me and my lungs contract. Quickly, I snag the mask back over my nose and mouth taking several deep breathes. Standing up, I realise that I'm still dressed in my tribute outfit, the blue jumpsuit almost feels loose against my body, no doubt due to the lack of moister in the air. Standing up, I am wobbly but stabler than I originally thought I would be, at the end of the seating area, a wall of frosted plastic stands with a door shape cut out, in the small section after is nothing but metal walls and sharp white light before a entire wall of frosted plastic stands, this time it has a door which remains shut but with the light, I can see shadows moving behind it. Panicked to who could be behind the wall, President Snow? Plutarch Heavensbee? The Capitol executer or the doctors responsible for the turning of people into Avox's? I search for a weapon, on the floor space between the end chair and first wall lays a suitcase of sealed syringes. Perfect. All I need is a clear shot to a vein. For a second, I consider killing Beetee but decide against it because the monitors will start beeping and I'll be caught before I can get to Finnick.

"She'll loose it," warned a male, the deep richness and edge huskiness of his voice tells me it's Haymitch Abernathy, the last time we had spoken was when he convinced me to be allies with Willow. What is he doing here? Why is he hear.

"But she'll cooperate, right?" another male asks. Plutarch Heavensbee. I think. Although I have only spoke to him once at the presidential palace, I know that man's voice well.

There is a brief moment of silence, "Without him, there's no guarantee." says Finnick.

Says Finnick! The door sides open, almost as if knowing my next move was to bang into it trying to open it and stumble into the room, my eyes are mad with anger. I'm pissed off not knowing that is going on around me, why this shit always seems to happen to me. Haymitch, Plutarch and Finnick are all stood around a rectangle table, decorated with electronic notes and drawings. Their positions are scattered, Haymitch stands at the left corner closed to the door, a very beaten up Finnick has gripped both edges of the opposite ends of the table facing the door straight on – his left arm is bandaged like mine – whilst Plutarch paces up and down the long right side of the table. His hands clasped behind his back. A little daylight streams in through the gap in my blinds of the window and I just catch the glimpses of green trees. Haymitch grins at me, it's a smirk and sarcastic.

"Morning, sweetheart." he says, his voice oozes with sarcasm that makes me lunge forward, shoving the needle towards him. I can see Finnick and Plutarch move but Haymitch grabs my wrists and shoves me up against the now closed doors. "So, you and a syringe against the Capitol." he teases removing the weapon from my hands. Finnick just watches as I grapple with Haymitch but setting aside the man's age, he is very strong and I haven't got a hope in hell of winning this battle. "This is why no one lets you make the plans."

"What the hell are you doing in here!" I scream at Finnick.

He looks hurt but raises a hand, "Stop, calm down, just stop. And listen." he urges.

"We couldn't tell you, with President Snow watching, it was far too risky," Haymitch mumbles in my ear, "It was better for you to know nothing."

_What?_ "Where's Michael? Is he is District 4. Lucas? Where's Lucas?!" I demand angrily.

"Now Anastasia... You have been our mission since the beginning. The plan was always to get you out, half the tribute were in on it, this is the revolution. And you are the Mockingjay. And we're on our way to District 12, right now." Mr Heavensbee speaks in a very formal tone however it's some how softer than Haymitch's.

"Thirteen?"

"Yes, Thirteen." Haymitch says.

"You're mad." I spit.

Finnick darts around the table to approach me as Haymitch lets me go, I winced backward away from my district partner, he looks shocked by my action but doesn't progress in fear of scaring me more. Instead, he simply says, "Please, sit down, and we'll explain everything in more detail. Please, just sit down." he urges. Plutarch pulls out a chair, I sit down before he sets a bowl of broth and a bread rolls in front of me. Haymitch and Plutarch stand opposite me whilst Finnick leans up against the end of the table.

There was a plan to break us out of the arena from the moment the Games were announced. The victors from Districts 3, 6, 7, 8, 11, 12 and Finnick had varying degrees of knowledge about the plan. However the main members of the plan were Beetee, Wiress, Johanna, Peeta, Willow and Finnick, Plutarch Heavensbee has been – for several years – part of an undercover group aiming to overthrow the Capitol. He made sure the coil of wire was among the weapons. Beetee was in charge of blowing a hold in the forcefield. The bread we received in the arena was code for the time of rescue. The district where the bread originated indicated the day. District 3. Day three. The number of rolls, the hour. Twenty-four. The hovercraft belonged to District 13. Leila, Hayden, Dalton and Arnold had been right about it's existence and its defence capabilities. We are currently on a very roundabout journey to District 13. meanwhile, most of the districts in Panem are in full-scale rebellion.

Plutarch stops to see if I'm following, or maybe he's finished. It's hard to tell. It's an awful lot to take in, this elaborate plan in which I was a piece, just as I was meant to be a piece in the Hunger Games. Used without consent, without knowledge. At least in the Hunger Games, I knew I was being played with. My supposed friends have been a lot more secretive.

"You didn't tell me?" my voice is ragged, aiming my question at Finnick who looks like he'd turned to stone.

"We couldn't risk it," says Plutarch, "I was even worried you might mention my indiscretion with the watch during the Games." He pulls out his pocket watch and runs his thumb across the crystal, lighting up the mockingjay. "Of course, when I showed you this, I was merely tripping you off about the arena. As a mentor. I thought it might be a first steps towards gaining your trust. I never dreamed you'd end up a tribute again."

"I still don't understand why I wasn't let in on the plan!" I growl, "I have family to protect, my actions could result in problems with them. I should have been told!"

"When you blew the forcefield, you would be the first one they'd try to capture, and the less you knew, the better." says Haymitch.

"The first one? Why?" I ask, trying to hand onto the train of thought.

"For the same reason the rest of us agreed to die to keep you alive." Finnick says.

Shaking my head firmly, I say, "No, Johanna tried to kill me."

"Johanna knocked you out so she could cut your tracker from your arm. She then led Brutus and Enobaria away from you." Haymitch explains.

"What?" my head aches so and I want them to stop talking in circles, I suddenly wish I had kept the oxygen mask on. "Whilst you live, the revolution lives. You're the mockingjay."

The bird, the pin, the whistle, the refusal, the love story and the son, the volunteer, the watch and the dress that burst into flames. The one that survived despite the Capitol's plans. The symbol of the rebellion. I am the mockingjay but I don't want to be.

I shake my head, "No, I'm not the mockingjay. I gave the pin back to District 12, where it belongs." I reply sharply, honestly I feel no connection to the mockingjay. It was just a way to communicate safety in my first Hunger Games. There was no real connection to this symbol. Plutarch then removes a golden item from his trouser pocket and slides it across the table at me. Its the mockingjay pin I attached to Willow's body. I pick it up and examined it, the gold shines brighter than I remember, it's been polished.

"Fuck you!" I growl angrily, filling with rage that they have taken this from a dead tribute simply to try and get me to join their rebellion. I throw it at the two men who both flinch, it hits the arms Haymitch used to protect his face.

"Anastasia," Finnick says soothingly, "They've got Michael, Annie and Mags."

My heart drops to my stomach and my limbs go like jelly, "Where's Lucas?" I question, my voice shaking not with sadness but with red hot rage.

"He's safe." Plutarch assures me.

"How do they have them?" I question.

Finnick goes to answer but Plutarch silences him. "That's not important."

"I wasn't talking to you." I snap before turning back to Finnick. "Do they have Johanna?"

He nods, "Yes, she was picked up by the Capitol along with Peeta and Enobaria. They still had the trackers in their arms."

Angry. Everyone I love as been taken from me. My brother, Annie, Mags and now Peeta and Johanna who no doubt will be tortured for information regarding the entire plan Plutarch and Haymitch have created. Technically, I am unarmed but no one should underestimate the harm that fingernails can inflict, especially when the target is unprepared. This is all Plutarch's fault, his stupid plan could get my friends killed. "You son of a bitch," I snarl lunging forwards, across the table and rake my nails down his face, causing blood to flow and damage to one eye. Finnick is trying to drag me off, and I know it's taking everything Haymitch has not to rip me apart, but I'm the mockingjay.

Suddenly, a pinch pricks my back and then I begin to feel sluggish, Finnick's strong arms take a hold of me as I sink downwards, my vision blurring at the edges and my limps loosing all motion. He keeps me steady, travelling down to the ground with me. "You're a lair," I groan through my sobs as the darkness closes in once again.

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><p><strong>AN:_ It's almost Christmas! So excited. Anyway, how did you guys like this chapter? Michael has been taken by the Capitol however Lucas seems to be safe, that means that there is someone else in on the rebels plans, who do you think it is? Please review!_**


	49. Chapter 49: Homeless

Chapter Forty-Nine.

**There Is No Home.**

The drug doesn't cause sleep, just sedation so I'm trapped in a fuzzy, dully aching misery for what seems like always. Finnick and Plutarch attempt to make conversation with me but it's all useless. I refuse to reply. Finnick goes on about how it'll be okay for Annie and Michael because they actually didn't know about the arena break plan. It'll be worse for Johanna. They will use Annie and Michael against us as bait, I hear Finnick weep but I don't care. Not anymore. They probably won't even bother asking Annie questions, she's so far gone off the deep end years ago in her Games, there's a very good chance I'm headed in the same direction. Maybe I'm already crazy and no one has the heart to tell me. I feel crazy enough.

I wish they were all dead, I'll never get them back. That's for sure because even if the rebel manage to overthrow the Capitol, you can guarantee that President Snow's last act would be to cut all of their throats. Michael. Peeta. Johanna. Annie. Mags. All of them out be dead and if I can never get them back, death is best. But Michael will know or will he keep fighting? He's so strong and such a good lair. Does he think he has a chance of surviving? Does he even care if he does?

After that, I completely give up. Stop speaking, responding, refuse food and water. They can pump whatever they want into my arm, but it takes more than that to keep a person going once she's lost the will to live. I even have a funny notion that if I do die, maybe Michael will be allowed to live. Not as a free person but as an Avox or something, waiting on the future tributes of District 4. Then maybe he could find some way to escape. My death could, in fact, save them all. If it can't, no matter. It's enough to die of spite. To punish Plutarch who has turned me into a piece of his Games. I trusted Finnick to keep me sane and yet he might be the one who has driven me mad.

"_This is why no one lets you make the plan." _Haymitch had said. That's true, no one in their right mind would let me make the plans because I obviously can't tell a friend from an enemy.

A lot of people come by to talk to me but I make all their words sound like the clicking of the insects in the jungle. Meaningless and distant. Dangerous but only if approached. Whenever the words start to become distinct, I moan until they give me more painkiller and that fixes things right up. I have become rather fond of the painkiller prescribed to me, possibly a little too fond.

This continues on and on until one time, I open my eyes and find someone I cannot block out looking down at me. Someone who I mutually trust and didn't expect to see, who will not plead, or explain, or think he can alter my behaviour with lies, because with years of knowing each other, he knows how I operate.

"Hi, Embry." I whisper.

"Hey, Ana." he says back, "You're okay." he assures me.

I am in a different room, now it's made from grey stone instead of metal with gentle lights on the ceiling, a digital heartbeat monitor is connect to the wall where the sticky pads are strapped to my chest. One side of Embry's face has been recently burnt, his wrist is bandaged, and he isn't in his usual Head Peacekeeper outfit? Instead he wears a plain white button up shirt tucked into faded grey trouses. What happened to him? Where are we? Are we home? It is not so much a question of forgetting the others. All it take is one look at Embry and they come surging to the present, demanding to be acknowledged.

"Lucas?" I gasp.

"He's perfectly fine. I got him out in time." he says.

"Got him out?" I ask. "He's not in District Four?"

Embry looks away for a moment, trying to gather the words in the correct order that hang on the tip of his tongue, "After the Games, they sent in hovercraft's. And they started dropping firebombs."

"He's not in Four?" I repeat, as if trying to fend off the truth.

"Anastasia." Embry says softly, I recognise that voice. It was the same voice he used when he delivered the news of my father death when he was a new Peacekeeper in District Four. I instinctively raise my hand to block his words but he catches it and holds on tightly, too tightly.

"Don't." I whisper.

There's tears forming in my eyes, but its nice to know that there is someone who won't keep secrets from me. "Anastasia, there is no District 4."

Turning away from him. A thick line of tears line my eyes as I image the place where I grew up, my home, my memories. Staring up at the ceiling, I let the tears slip out but then I grow angry. This is President Snow's fault, the Capitol's fault. Not mine. And they will pay for what they have done to me. To Finnick. And what they will do to Peeta, Johanna, Michael and Annie.

Water is spreading, and if we are forced to drown, they will drown with us. This isn't the end.

**THE END.**

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><p><strong>AN:** _Yeap, that was my own verson of 'if we burn, you burn with us'. Not sure it will catch on but hey-ho. Okay, that is the end of my second Hunger Games story, should I continue on to write a third? Comment and tell me your opinions. Also, was anyone surprised it was Embry, former Head Peacekeeper who got Lucas out, of course if I write a third story I will explain how that happened. I will upload the letter to Lucas from his mother soon with my disclaimer and thanks so review and tell me that you think :) _


	50. Chapter 50: Letter To Lucas

Chapter Fifty.

**PART V: LETTER TO LUCAS.**

_Dear Lucas._

_I'm not sure why I'm writing this because I truly hope this letter never gets to you. However, if you do receive this letter, it means I am dead and I have failed you in a sense. But just because I have passed on doesn't mean that I'm not still there with you, looking over and protecting you. That what it was all about. And no doubt this is strange and confusing for you, therefore I will attempt to make this as straight to the point as possible._

_My name is Anastasia Hollern. I am seventeen years old but a year prvious I was reaped to enter the 84th Hunger Games. I was crowned victor after fourteen days in the arena. During my time in the Capitol, I met a boy named Cato Ludwig. He was a volunteer tribute from District 2. We fell in love. Unknowingly, I fell pregnant the night before the Games were scheduled to start. I killed four people during the period I spent in the arena, suffered starvation and dehydration as well as trauma but as I faced the person that stood between me going home, I couldn't kill again. It was because that person was Cato. Foolishly, I challenged the Gamemakers and lost. _

_He died in my arms._

_When I woke in the Capitol, a doctor whose last name is Fords, informed me that I was pregnant. President Snow threatened to kill my unborn child and everyone that I loved if during my tour I didn't convince everyone of my love for Cato but instead, our love sparkled a rebellion amongst the districts. That is when Snow informed me that I had failed, I thought that was going to be the end, that night at six months pregnant, my placenta failed and my son was delivered three months premature but thanks to a miracle medicine and treatment, he was perfectly stable after several weeks inside the Capitol main hospital._

_That is why, in several hours I will be forced to prepare to hear my name being called because President Snow has decided instead of putting normal children from the districts into the Eight-fifth Games, to mark the birth of his great-grandchild, he is reaping the victors from each district in an attempt to kill me without suspicion._

_Lucas, this is why I am writing you this letter. To tell you everything you need to know in case I'm reaped. I am your mother and you are the spark that helped light the fire of the rebellion. But if it doesn't go well at the reaping, I won't be last mother, your uncle Michael is a difficult man but he loves you to the end of the world and back. You God-Parent's also have hearts full of love for you. My space fill be filled well._

_Don't forget that I loved you first, you grew inside me and I protected you. If I die in that arena it would be a blessing for you all. President Snow would no longer see you or Michael as a threat, therefore you would be able to live the rest of your lives with reduced gear of being punished for mine and Cato's action._

_I'm terrible sorry for all the pain and suffering I have pushed upon you. No doubt you hate me for all of this because I really don't blame you, I hate myself as well but Lucas, I love you so much. Every time I looked at you, I see yor father, the blond hair and blue eyes, the only think you inherited from me is gently tanned skin. You're a true beauty and I simply fall in love with you more every time I looked at you._

_You're safe but please be careful because it's up to you now. You have a red X on your back that could remain for the rest of your life. I will die protecting you because that's what mothers do._

_I love you, Lucas._

_Your mother,_

_– Anastasia._

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><p><strong>AN:** _What did you think about Anastasia's letter to Lucas, please review!_


	51. Chapter 51: Disclaimer

**Disclaimer.**

To my wonderful readers,

This is my second Hunger Games story completed. And it's been an absolute brilliant writing for you and also getting to know you through your reviews. However like every fan-fiction, there is the heart breaking disclaimer to write so I don't get told off. From this story the only thing I own is Anastasia, Lucas and Michael along with anyone else I have created and their abilities, sarcasm and strange comments with the individual events that occur during this story which differ from the original novel. Everything else is the brilliant work of Suzanne Collins.

I'd like to say thank you to the amazing readers who have read, comment and voiced their opinions, likes and dislikes throughout my story and helped me to develop my skills. These people are the fantastic dragynfyre18 and hateme101 but I also want to say a massive thank you to my new reader and commenter ghwitch15who has given me such structured feedback it's incredible – all of these readers have given me such confident. And so I shower then with lots of hugs and best wishes! Words cannot express how much you have helped me.

Should Anastasia's story continue on as I guess there is the Capitol to overthrow, people to save and questions which need answering. Make sure you keep an eye out for new updates of my new story! And of course, review.

I sincerely hope you all have a brilliant Christmas and a spectacular new year.

**– Valerie**.Argent.16****


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